


The Legend of Sparrow Jones, Book 1: Open The Gate A Little

by Chord



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Animagus Harry Potter, Blood and Gore, Dystopia, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Issues, Fast burn?, For Science!, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Future Fic, Gen, Girls Kissing, Global Warming, Hogwarts, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Multi, Oh yes and Lethifolds, Polyamory, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Canon, Psychic Bond, Romance, Slow Burn, Statute of Secrecy (Harry Potter), Underage Kissing, Wizarding World (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 178,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22676872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chord/pseuds/Chord
Summary: Dark Wizards are not as dangerous as someone with a heart of gold who wants to change the world.Sparrow begins her school year with noble goals, and the fire of youth in her heart. She sees her land in decay, she sees her people in misery, she has a tool in her hand that could bring life to the hills again, and yet, is she uses it, she knows the law will oppose her for the sake of upholding Secrecy.She spends the first part of this first volume, her fourth year of schooling, in coming to a greater love and humility, lest all perish for her noble goals. She must admit that she may be wrong, must be willing to seek consensus, must be willing to surrender to everyone's decision.The trouble is, everyone means everyone, including the people she can't tell about magic.So in the second half of her school year, Sparrow must embark on a course of extreme illegality, precisely because it is so difficult and so dangerous that nobody is watching from that direction. Who would bother to monitor the minefield?She will hear no objections. This is for the sake of democracy.Which is to say: This is for the sake of love.
Relationships: Cormac McKinnon/Violet Brown, Sparrow Jones/Jillian Patil/Jocasta Carrow
Comments: 22
Kudos: 9





	1. Begin part 1: Close to the end of the dry season

**Author's Note:**

> When I posted this work a few months ago, I had not revised it to the extent I have revised it now. It was not as complete then. The initial characterization was, shall we say, threadbare, and was not weaved very well into later developments. I have spent some time fixing the problems I saw, which means the story as it exists now is slightly different from the original post. I apologize if my revision has taken anything away from the story that you appreciated.
> 
> Also content warning: this work, when completed, will include at least once scene where a large creature explodes into a bloody mess. Sorry about that.
> 
> As for how this work relates to the canon: I have attempted to hew closely to the details enumerated in the Harry Potter Wiki. I have employed a fair amount of dramatic license for the shape of the shield spell because I made its shape central to Sparrow's character well before I checked its canonical description. Otherwise, the work is like canon except where noted.
> 
> (Canon in this case not including the Scamander movies. I am disturbed that Rowling's concept of my continent is so thoroughly unlike what I know. She appears to have copy-pasted her Wizarding Britain into a larger setting rather than attempting to build a story out of how this side of the world works. So, she had a group of palefaces construct a boarding school on this continent...with full support from the Indians. What in the Sam Hill was she thinkin' that'd look like?)
> 
> Now as for certain details -- I am aware that original-character fic is a bit of a long shot, when most people in a fandom are wanting to see further adventures of the characters they are already familiar with. I am also aware that the Harry Potter fandom is not pleased with the canonical steps for becoming an Animagus. Furthermore I am aware that, while polyamory is popular on this website, three-woman polyamory is not, and that writing a fanfiction that combines an original-character focus with such a category of polyamory appeals to...perhaps less than a hundred people. On the entire website. Which happens to be the largest collection of literature in human history. But think of it this way:
> 
> I started writing this shit years ago and I'm not backing out now.
> 
> Do I know what I'm doing? No. Do you know what I'm doing? No. Alright let's roll.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet many friends, and lose one for a little while.

In the dry season, the lake at Hogwarts became a lakebed as the shoreline receded. Nobody knew where the giant squid went, in the months when the lake was the size of a pond.

In those months, the world was not fit for a squid, or any sort of swimming creature; the land had a stark beauty, all sharp shadows and gleaming rock faces. Not a soft beauty. In such times the soft things that were green and growing became brown, brittle and hard. A spectral beauty, for those haunted by what they knew of older times. Those who were old enough could tell you that the blackened poles upon the farther hills had been oaks, once, that the long-leaved shrubs stretching out to the horizon now stood in place of mighty pines. They knew that the dusty dirt stretching from the castle to the shrubs had been a field of grass.

And so did Sparrow Jones, for, despite her tender age of fourteen, she had a mother who had survived the drying of the world. And so, in the times when she told her friends what she thought of the landscape, she never let the memory of the past go unremarked, heedless of their growing exasperation over the subject.

“I get it,” said Jill. “Our earth was once green. I don’t understand it, though. Something called Global Warming?”  
  
“Climate Change,” said Sparrow. “It’s not all that warm around here when November rains come. But, the world used to be softer, and kinder. That’s the important thing.”

“You’re soft,” said Jill, as she draped an arm over Sparrow’s shoulder. “Maybe that’s all I need.”

Sparrow was too short to return the favor, or perhaps Jill was too tall, but then, she never minded putting an arm around the girl’s waist.

To observers, the two girls looked like the sun would give up trying before it could never manage to burn them, and sink into night, defeated. Yet in all other respects, they looked as different as moon and sun, as night and day. One was a short little slip of a girl, and her parents having named her after a bird was an inspired foresight. The color of her skin might have lent itself to the name of a darker bird, like a starling, and indeed if one looked into the girl’s eyes you could just see the stars reflected, though it be brightest day. And there were some students who called her the African Swallow, for she was always flitting about the castle, bringing her gifts to her fellow students. Yet, Sparrow she was and would be, and she sang so prettily of what could be.

The other, in the times when she stood, led people to wonder if she would ever stop growing, for already she was up there with the older students, and people wondered how many bludgers she could hold at once, and usually their estimate was just one over the true limit, and the girl knew that if she worked hard she could get one more. Jillian Patil was the most feared player on any team at Hogwarts, for not a single bludger could ever get past her, and when they tried they tended to be hurtled towards an opposing player at a speed faster than anyone expected. There were some students her “Himalaya”, because she was an Indian mountain. This latter epithet had only lasted for about three weeks before Jill’s furious glare had scared the laughter out of half the student body. You did not mess very long with someone who could hold a bludger in place with one arm.

For those who met the two the first time, they were always surprised that the little Sparrow was the more protective. Oft times there was a shield that sprang up, and those it opposed would cast their eyes to the mighty Jill, before realizing that it was coming from the wand of the little Sparrow.

Sparrow was only a little ashamed that it seemed to be the only thing she was good at, for, as she said so often, Wizards could do much, and possibly anything. But not everything, as Jill said, and yet, when they spoke of such things, it always devolved to that one topic. For, as Sparrow said, if Wizards could do so much, why not do more than simply live easy? Why not run to the hills, and cover them with trees as they once had been? Why not remake the world from what it had become?

Many was the time Sparrow had asked Jill this question over the previous school years, and every time Jill had told her friend to leave it be, until finally she had blown up at Sparrow, and told her to drop the subject for good.

But, here they were, on the highest walkway, between the astronomy tower and the dragon tower, gazing down at the wide grounds, where the patchy brush had not tasted a bit of rain since last March, and Sparrow still wondered why the groundskeeper didn’t at least do a bit of touchup. Jill had taken Sparrow to a Paradise Garden over the summer. Quite the lush place. Surely a bit of magic could do the same here?

“We could make this place soft,” said Sparrow. “We could make it green again.”

“My dear friend,” said Jill, turning her bright green eyes upon Sparrow. “Do not start that again.”

“Why not?”

“Because you keep tempting me, and it’s difficult to resist the urge to remake the world, along with all else I resist. I am scared that I might wind up agreeing with you.”

“I’m not asking to remake the world,” said Sparrow. “I just want to know why you don’t even want all this – ” she swept a hand out to the wide grounds – “to look a bit nicer.”

“Well maybe you should ask the Headmistress,” said Jill. “I’m not in charge of this school.”

“No indeed,” said a voice behind them. “And that is an important thing to understand, my dear students. One might say it is the beginning of wisdom, to understand what you can control and what you cannot.”

Sparrow turned. There stood Minerva McGonagall. An old woman she was, wrinkled of face and white of hair. But there are other markers of age, and the Headmistress wore, as she always wore, the kind of expression that made one wonder if she had ever been young. Some old people that Sparrow had met acted like they had been young, but the Headmistress never did.

“How very convenient,” said Sparrow. “I was just going to ask you – ”

“The answer is no,” said the Headmistress. “Believe me, I’ve been hearing about your question since the beginning of your first school year. I should have put a stop to it as soon as I did, but perhaps I was curious to see how far you would go. Was that a mistake?” She fixed Sparrow with her trademark glare. “Have I let you go too far? Are you planning to remake the world without so much as a by-your-leave?”

“I hardly even know how to transfigure anything,” said Sparrow.

Jill smacked Sparrow in the back of the head.

“Ow! I mean, no.”

“You have been absolutely abysmal at transfiguration classes,” said Headmistress McGonagall. “I’ve never seen anyone turn a teacup into a blast-ended Skrewt before, at least not by accident. How did you even know what they look like? They haven’t been a part of Hagrid’s coursework for years.”

“I didn’t.”

“As I said. Worst transfiguration student I’ve ever heard of. Not much in the potions department either, nor particularly adept with basic charms. You’re not exactly likely to actually cause much trouble to the world itself.”

“But what about the shield charm?” said Jill. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“No indeed,” said the Headmistress. “Nor have I ever seen anyone who actually pays attention in the History of Magic class, nor in the Muggle Studies class. You are a most unusual child, Miss Jones, and you have your own talents worth developing.” She put a hand on Sparrow’s shoulder. “I would not see you throw that away. Your current line of inquiry could take you down a path that is dangerous for yourself, as well as for others. Leave it be.”

“But nobody’s ever told me why,” said Sparrow. “They just tell me to hush up.”

“Curiosity,” said the Headmistress. “A terrible thing. Impossible to resolve, until it is satisfied, or until the quester is given a very harsh lesson. And yet, if it is satisfied, it may lead to harsh lessons anyway. Well.” She stepped to the wall and gestured to the grounds. “I will tell you this. The Paradise Gardens you know of are all enclosed, shielded from muggle eyes. They are safe. This place has its own protections, yet if it were a bright patch of green in a world gone barren, no spell could prevent muggles from noticing. It is for your safety that we leave the grounds looking dull.”

Sparrow hadn’t seen muggle habitation in the last forty miles of the train ride. But she had seen an aeroplane yesterday, so that had to count for something. She remained silent.

“And there’s more to it than that,” continued the Headmistress. “Think of who we are, dear child. We are Wizards. Powerful, dangerous, prone to flights of fancy and destructive anger. There have been many of us who wished to re-shape the Wizarding world, and to impose their ideas upon it, without asking anyone. If you would do so yourself, well, think of it this way: you can’t change someone’s life for them.”

“I guess.”

Jill looked up at the sky. “The sun is moving towards three o’clock,” she said. “I think it’s time we get to class.”

“What class?” said Sparrow. “Wait. It’s Wednesday, isn’t it? Transfiguration.”

“Don’t blow anything up this time,” said the Headmistress.

…

The transfiguration classroom was on the fourth floor today. On Monday it had been on the first floor, but things tended to shift quite a bit in the castle. Once upon a time it had only been the staircases and the occasional hallway that moved, but these days, a magically-updating map was on the list of essential school supplies. Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes had the monopoly on the supply. Some students, like Sparrow, were annoyed at being forced to enter a joke shop. Other students, like Jocasta Carrow, made full use of the opportunity to purchase Invisible Whoopie Cushions and Exploding Cauldrons.

The really mean prank was when Miss Carrow had replaced the dessert selection for the entire Hufflepuff table with Vanishing Cupcakes. Oh, nobody proved it, yes. But there was only one person with pranks like that.

And so, when Sparrow and Jill’s journey through the fourth-floor corridor was interrupted by a sudden bag of flour emptying above her head, she knew who to blame. Partly because Miss Carrow was nearby. There she was, standing in her green-trimmed formal school robes as always, wavy jet-black hair tumbling past her pale face to her shoulders and down her back, her deep dark eyes searching you.

“You,” said Sparrow.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Jocasta. “Nice shield charm, though. You’re always quick on the draw. I’ve had to get more creative because of you. It’s no fun tossing stuff at people anymore.”

The bag of flour had not reached Sparrow’s head, but had been halted by a wide bowl, a translucent concave shape that glowed with soft yellow light.

“I might say you’ve forced me to become quicker on the draw over the years,” said Sparrow. “But the truth is, everyone has. I have to break up childish quarrels all the time around here.” She glanced right and saw a couple of students nearby, engaged in a battle of poking each other. She flicked her wand to gently deposit the bowl on the ground, then flicked her wand at the students to raise a translucent glowing disk between them. They looked around, spotted Sparrow, and glowered at her.

“Ah yes,” said Jocasta. “Always foiling me and everyone. Well. If I’m not the only one who causes you trouble then how do you know this one was my doing?”

Jill shifted a bit closer to Sparrow. “It’s always you,” she said. “Nobody comes up with pranks quite the way you do.”

“Oh, is that a compliment?” said Jocasta. “That’s odd. You have never complimented me once over the past three years. What’s got into you now?”

Sparrow glanced at Jill, whose face looked a bit flushed.

Jill shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re – ”

“Are you trying to flirt with me?”

Jill crossed her arms and stood a bit more straight. “Fie upon thee, my archrival! I shall vanquish thee in the dueling club tonight!”

“ _Archrival?_ Now that is definitely a compliment.”

“Never mind!” Jill departed through the classroom door.

Sparrow and Jocasta watched her go. “What a pity,” said Jocasta. “I enjoyed the flattery. Alas, this was not my idea. I think this one was a bit…pedestrian. Not even involving a Wheezy! How primitive.”

Sparrow looked around. Who was looking guilty? There he was. Cormac McKinnon, a stout lad who had about the reddest hair and the palest skin in the school. At the moment his face was also red.

“I’m sorry!” said Cormac. “I was trying to get Jocasta and you got in the way.”

“Is that so?” said a voice from the classroom door. The door had been transfigured to look like a human face, and it spoke. “Mister McKinnon, pranking people. Ten points from Hufflepuff.”

“Tsk tsk,” said Jocasta. “Never admit fault when you prank someone, Kinney old bean. You’ve much to learn. I could teach you.”

“I shall not go any further down a dark road!” said Cormac. “I shall not become a dark prankster wizard like you!” He dashed into the classroom.

…

“Why don’t you explain yourself,” said Sparrow. She had taken a seat close to Cormac, hoping that his own struggles with transfiguration would overshadow her own.

“What’s to explain?” said Cormac. “Jocasta pranks everyone and never apologizes. And she pranks the Hufflepuffs more than anyone. She’s the reason we have to check our seats at the table at every meal. So I thought I would get back at her.”

“You don’t trust me to protect you? Nothing gets through my shield.”

“Sometimes you’re not there.”

“Fair point.”

“Explain the bag of flour,” said Jill, sitting on the other side of Cormac.

“It seemed like a very Muggle thing,” said Cormac. “Maybe I wanted to show her up without using magic. You ever thought of that? Doing something without using magic?”

“I write homework with my own hands,” said Sparrow. “Does that count? I walk up stairs instead of flying.”

“No,” said Cormac, “I mean like, washing dishes, digging holes, tying shoelaces. That sort of thing.”

“Why bother?” said Jill. “You can just wave a wand.”

“Speaking as a muggleborn,” said Sparrow, “you can imagine I’d want to take full advantage of my wand during the school year.”

“Fair point,” said Cormac. “Just don’t forget muggle stuff. In case you lose your wand. Or something.”

“Attention!” shouted the professor. “Today we will be learning about Animagi.”

Sparrow had been informed that the Transfiguration Professor used to be Headmistress McGonagall, back when Dombledore ran the school. Perhaps if it had been, Sparrow would have learned how to transfigure something, under the stern but patient gaze of a legendary professor. As it was, the incident with the Blast-Ended Skrewts had left her successor Volund Smith in such a bad state that they had to come up with a hasty replacement. The replacement, named Petrus Wimble, was the sort of professor who lectured far more often than he had the students practice. Which meant that half of the time, Sparrow’s mind was free to wander.

Today was such a day, fortunately. As Professor Wimble droned on and on about the legal details of animagi and the registration process, Sparrow thought about what the Headmistress had said. She had said that you couldn’t change someone’s life for them. But that wasn’t literally true, was it? Especially with magic involved. Why, there was a muggle story about a fairy clad in blue who changed a poor washer-girl’s outfit into a beautiful gown, and let her go to the Ball, and she lived happily ever after! Muggles always used the term “fairy godmother” when they were talking about someone being granted magic wishes out of the blue. Why couldn’t Wizards be fairy godmothers? Maybe, once upon a time, they had been.

Something the professor was saying finally caught her attention.

“The legal penalties for failing to register as an animagi are severe,” said Wimble. “The Ministry of Magic will levy a fine of not less than twenty thousand galleons, or impose a year in Azkaban, depending on the financial status of the perpetrator.”

The entire class shivered.

Sparrow raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Jones?”

“I still don’t understand. Why is it necessary to register?”

Professor Wimble raised an eyebrow. “I just told you.”

“But – ”

“You are a bold one,” said Wimble. “Perhaps you should have been in Gryffindor.”

“She’s proposing to break the law,” said Jocasta. “That sounds more like Slytherin.”

“But she wants to know why something is the way it is,” said Jill. “That sounds like Ravenclaw.”

Sparrow felt her face grow hot.

“Be that as it may,” said Professor Wimble, “we must return to the lesson.” And he droned on and on, leaving Sparrow wondering, now, about the Ministry of Magic itself, and how harsh it could be. She’d done magic over the summer and almost had her wand taken from her. The folks who had appeared at her door had not been very nice at all. They had used a memory charm on her entire neighborhood and then magically bound her arms to a chair and yelled at her for an hour.

Just for using a charm to make a tree grow. They’d cut the tree down too.

Sparrow couldn’t understand why anyone would want to work for such people. But, maybe they liked the taste of power.

Just like she did.

That was something to think about.

…

The Hufflepuff table did not have any cupcakes that night.

“So why ARE you in Hufflepuff?” said Cormac, through a mouthful of shepherd’s pie. “The way you talk about big things and intervene in things, I’d say you’re as bold as a Gryffindor is supposed to be.”

“We’re both fourth years,” said Sparrow. “There’s still a few years for you to find someone bolder than me.”

“I don’t think there is,” said Cormac. “I think if anyone was more daring they would have run afoul of the Ministry already. You’re right on the edge, you know. People talk about you. They wonder why you haven’t done anything stupid enough to get expelled yet.”

“Because I wish to learn,” said Sparrow. “I want to learn everything.”

“Sounds more like a Ravenclaw to me,” said Jill beside her. Jill had cleared her plate but had not left the table.

“Perhaps we all need a little Ravenclaw in us,” said Sparrow, “if we want to pass our exams.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” said Cormac. He banged his fork on the table. “Hufflepuff. Why did the hat pick you for Hufflepuff?”

“It didn’t,” said Sparrow. “I did.”

“Just like Harry Potter,” said Cormac. “So why didn’t you pick Gryffindor? That’s the grand old house of brave people. Right?”

“Are you saying Hufflepuff doesn’t have brave people?”

“Well I’m not saying that, but – ”

“Do you think Hufflepuff was a bad choice?”

“I just think it’s the least fitting of all your possibilities. So why bother?”

“Long story,” said Sparrow. “Maybe I’ll explain later.” She leaned upon Jill. “What about you, my dear? You’re a Patil. Most of them go into Gryffindor. Why’d you pick Hufflepuff?”

“Think of it this way,” said Jill. “Everyone knows what to expect of a Gryffindor. Everyone knows what to expect of a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin. But Hufflepuffs can do what they like, because everyone underestimates them.”

“Ooh,” said Cormac. “Sounds Slytheriny to me.”

“No doubt,” said Jocasta, appearing beside Cormac.

He jumped, scattering bits of potato. At the same time Sparrow was jostled as Jill stiffened and sat up straighter.

“Oh hello,” growled Sparrow. “Where did you come from?”

“Perhaps from nowhere,” said Jocasta, giving Sparrow an innocent smile. “Perhaps from the very air itself. Anyway, Jill. I bet I know why you went into Hufflepuff.”

“Oh?”

“You were trying to follow Sparrow.”

Cormac made that “OOO” sound with the rising tone, the sound that children make when they collectively stumble upon a guilty secret.

“I don’t see how that’s supposed to be embarrassing,” said Sparrow.

Jill glanced at Sparrow, and said, “Of course you don’t.” Sparrow was left to lean on nothing as Jill departed the table and the hall in haste.


	2. Where oh where has my little Jill gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparrow wanders lonely as a cloud that floats on low through vales and mills.

Jill did not appear at the dueling club that night in the great hall. Jocasta looked disappointed.

"What's the matter?" said Sparrow.

"Jill."

"Oh," said Sparrow. "So you _do_ care about her."

"Of course," said Jocasta. “I wanted to get our arch-rivalry going in earnest. I have waited _years_ for her to call me such a thing.”

“Really,” said Sparrow.

“You doubt me? Oh! I suffer the judgment of everyone’s no-nonsense mother hen! Spare me!”

Some of the students giggled.

“What happened to her?” said Jocasta. “Did she fly her broom into a wall?”

“You happened to her,” said Sparrow.

The students gathered around made that “OOO” sound people make when someone has delivered a sick burn.

“Why are you even here?” said Jocasta. “You quit the club a long time ago.”

“Figured I could find her here,” said Sparrow. “Or on the Quidditch pitch, I guess. Figured I wouldn’t find her anywhere else. Thanks a lot, by the way. I’d say you made a real impression on her.”

“I was just – ”

“There’s no ‘just’ when you talk about stuff like that.”

“Oh, am I going to get a lecture now? Are you going to tell me what it means to be a good student? I’m all ears.”

“I’m busy.” Sparrow swept out of the room towards the door to the grounds.

…

There was a figure flying high around the Quidditch pitch in the twilight, smacking away bludgers as they flew towards her. The figure dismissed the bludgers with a wave of their wand, and descended as if curious, but, before Sparrow could determine who it was, they soared upward, off the pitch and around the castle.

Which was exactly why Sparrow had made her request to get a broomstick from the school supply closet ahead of time.

Of course, the reason she had to make such a request was because she had no broomstick of her own, because it would have been a pointless purchase, because, just as this thing was doing now, broomsticks tended to dump her on the ground at the first opportunity.

Sparrow brushed the dust off her clothing and wondered if it would be possible to cajole a broomstick. Maybe if she told it that love was at stake. Which was true, wasn't it? Jill and Sparrow, arm in arm, a matched set, one with the shield and the other with the flaming sword, partners in crime, bosom buddies, friends to the bitter end. That was worth helping her out for, wasn't it?

The broom said nothing. As brooms tended to do.

…

In the following weeks, Jill did not speak much to Sparrow, nor sit near her in classes, nor at the Hufflepuff table in the great hall. Many was the time that Sparrow attempted to confront Jill on the matter, only for the girl to make a hasty excuse and slip away. She did not even sleep in the same dorm room as Sparrow anymore; when Sparrow asked after her current arrangements nobody could say where she had gone.

There was, at the beginning of October, a point where Sparrow had the chance to corner her friend, only for Jocasta to distract her with a pink Pygmy Puff. It was utterly adorable. Sparrow could not look away. When she did look away, Jill was gone. She looked back at Jocasta, who was wearing an Innocent expression.

“I swear to Christ,” said Sparrow, “it’s like you’re trying to be the next Peeves.”

“Swear to who?” said Jocasta.

“Never mind, never mind.”

Sparrow was already missing her friend. She had thought that their bond was strong, but evidently Jill’s embarrassment was stronger. Sparrow was disappointed, and quite cross with the girl, and with Jocasta even moreso.

In the midst of those weeks, when Jocasta tossed things at her, as if to deliberately bounce things off Sparrow’s shield, the objects tended to ricochet at high speed directly towards the thrower. Fortunately for Jocasta, her experience in Wizard Duels meant that she had no trouble dodging these missiles; unfortunately for anyone behind her they did not have the same skill, and so a few students wound up with a faceful of flowers, a shirt covered in ink, and, on one occasion, a faceful of furious marmot.

On those first occasions Sparrow had been deeply embarrassed; the incident with the marmot was mortifying. Worse, Jocasta’s reaction was hearty laughter, as if it was in any way funny to involve Sparrow in causing harm to the other students. Worse still, Sparrow could not figure out how to stop the ricochet effect, nor could she understand why it only worked when Jocasta threw things at her, not when Cormac tried.

So Sparrow decided that, as her shield spell seemed to be nearly a reflex by now, she would attempt to control her reaction. To this end she enlisted Cormac’s aid once more, and had him throw pillows at her until she could at last let them come.

This effort lasted all night. As a result, the following morning Sparrow was altogether too tired to notice a bottle of ink hurtling at her face, until it struck her square on the forehead.

Fortunately and unfortunately for Sparrow, this particular bottle was made in the typical mode of glass ink bottles, which is to say that it was thick enough to resist shattering even when it hit the floor. Which meant that a greater portion of the impact went into Sparrow’s forehead, and, as the bottle had been travelling at high speed, there was quite a bit of that impact –

At least from Sparrow’s perspective. The girl who had not suffered a hard strike from anything or anyone in many years was now dealing with a great deal of bone-cracking pain all at once.

That, at least, was what Sparrow came to understand long after the fact. In the moment, past the initial shock of pain, there was nothing to consider. Or perhaps, plenty of things she could have considered, but nothing she felt like she could pay attention to. Except, perhaps, to wonder why on earth this raven-haired girl had her wand up in her face, and why her pain was fading, and why –

“I really can’t figure you out,” mumbled Sparrow. “Thought I could. What’s your flipping problem?”

“Add this one to the list,” said Jocasta, and this time, for once, the girl didn’t look smug at all.

In the next moment she vanished.

…

In regards to the marmot incident, Sparrow’s embarrassment faded fairly quickly, as her fellow students seemed to consider the matter little more than a trifle. So embarrassment was replaced by confusion, as Sparrow thought everyone would be worried their vaunted Shield Maiden had at last slipped up. But there was neither insinuation nor rumor to that effect. Nobody cared.

Except for a few people, who seemed to be amused that the high-and-mighty Sparrow Jones had got a comeuppance. Sparrow found this even more confusing. How could they object to being protected? Try as she might Sparrow could not resolve this question in her mind.

As for Jocasta, she spent a week vanishing as soon as she saw Sparrow, then relaxed enough to simply walk away, before getting up to tricks again – this time mostly needling the girl from afar. No more thrown objects, for some reason.

In these same weeks, the situation with Jill did not get any better. Sparrow had hoped that Jill’s embarrassment would eventually fade. But even into mid-October she remained distant. The Hufflepuff quidditch team was victorious against the Ravenclaws, and then against the Slytherins in their next match, and Jill did not even celebrate with Sparrow as she had once done for every Hufflepuff victory.

Sparrow began to feel slightly queasy whenever she sat down to a meal. She was far more distracted than usual, and found herself staring out windows when she tried to do her homework. She couldn’t figure out what was going on with her. She had never felt like this before – not physically ill, but mentally burdened. Wait, that wasn’t quite the case. She’d gone through this right after losing all of her friends those many years ago. What was this, then? Mourning? But Jill was not dead.

And yet she might as well be. Sparrow and Jill had not often parted company in the past three years, enough that they were willing to ask the Headmistress to put them in the same class schedule. McGonagall had given them a searching look, and then, miracle of miracles, granted their request without comment. And now Jill was not dead, no, but certainly gone.

Sparrow had no words for what she was feeling, and no frame of reference. So she wandered through her life, dazed, nearly lost. If Cormac had not let her copy his notes she might have failed all her classes. If he had not been willing to listen to her complain, she would have been lost. Funny how she felt more anchored, when she was around him.

It was a milder form of how she felt around Jill. It was almost as if she had a crush on the girl.

Hm. That was something to think about.

Or not think about, because she hadn't ever dared to let herself hope for such a thing, so obviously it was impossible and it was going to make her feel worse anyway so why even bother and she probably didn't even deserve it and oh god dammit where was that girl?

...

On a Tuesday in October, the weather was now gentle enough that Care Of Magical Creatures could be held outside. Not that Wizards minded a little hot sun, but Hagrid insisted on working with certain specimens from the world of long ago that couldn’t take the dry season easily.

“I think he’s a little hidebound in his old age,” said Jocasta. “Look, he’s bringing out Flobberworms. They’re nearly extinct.”

“Or maybe,” said Violet Brown, “he wants us to understand recent history.”

Violet Brown always wore lavender, in open and typically unchallenged defiance of the school’s gloomy dress code. Sparrow had never seen her wearing any other color. She wasn’t certain if the girl bought clothes in that shade, or if she simply used a coloring charm, or if her clothing simply turned lavender when it touched her skin, but Sparrow had never seen lavender leather, lavender brass buttons, or lavender belt buckles. Her wand wasn’t lavender, yet, but perhaps it was only a matter of time.

As it was, Sparrow thought that the girl ought to have been named Lavender, for Violet embodied the name of her ancestor, unto the very color of her long curly hair, unto her long fingernails, unto the very irises of her wide eyes, and though Sparrow felt that the whole effect did not precisely go well with the girl’s deeply tan skin, she had long since decided that nitpicks of fashion were less important than keeping memory alive. Violet embodied her decision most strongly in the rare moments when a new teacher thought to deduct house points for her being out of uniform; her glare nearly always got them to back down.

As to memory, Violet was the only student besides Sparrow who paid any attention in History of Magic. She was also, somehow, always right behind Sparrow at the library checkout counter, with as many books. In Sparrow’s eyes, no Ravenclaw lived up to the house’s reputation as well as she did.

Which unfortunately meant that she was ALSO difficult to approach, because she always seemed to be running off somewhere, or kicking off on a broom to reach a high balcony quickly, in either case her head of long lavender curls flying in the wind of her speedy passage.

But here was an opportunity.

“So,” said Sparrow, as she sidled up to Violet. “Read any good books lately?”

“I read them for information,” said Violet, “not for quality.”

“What KIND of information?”

“History.”

“Interesting history?”

“I don’t care if it’s interesting.”

“Then why do you bother?”

“To gain knowledge.” Violet didn’t even bother to glance at Sparrow.

But then she did.

“What is it?” said Sparrow.

“I do have a question for you.”

“For me! Little old me? What could I possibly tell you that you don’t already know?”

“Not here,” said Violet. “Not now. Later.”

“Ooh,” said Jocasta. “Someone has a crush.”

Violet’s face turned red.

“Will you knock it off!” said Sparrow as she shooed Jocasta away.

THUMP.

Sparrow jumped, as did the rest of the class. Hagrid had wrinkles and a big white beard, but age had not reduced his strength. When Hagrid put his foot down, you jumped, and you didn’t get to ask how high.

“Listen ter me!” he growled, as he pointed to the large slimy mass on his shoulder. “What ye see here is a Flobberworm. Used to be more common. But they aren’t extinct, Miss Carrow. The Scamander Foundation takes care o’ that, sure as rain.”

“So, not very sure,” said Sparrow.

Hagrid glared at the girl. “Pardon me old expressions,” he growled. “Sure as sunrise, let’s say. Now, the way Flobberworms work is – yes, miss Jones?”

“When are we going to learn about the Rhiannons?”

“Later,” said Hagrid. “Now, the Flobberworms used to be more common, right, but things have dried up a bit for ’em, so Wizards take care o’ them these days.”

“Why?” said Cormac. “They don’t, um, do anything.”

Hagrid scowled. “Ye mean ye haven’t even been paying attention to the greenhouses, then? Young Professor Longbottom never made ye notice the Flobberworms mulching the leaf litter?”

“Well he did, but – ”

“There ye go,” said Hagrid. “There’s something useful for ye. But I don’t need ‘em t’ be useful to keep ‘em alive. I just figure if they’re alive I oughter help keep them alive. If I let any magical creature go extinct I’d be letting meself go as well.”

Sparrow raised her hand.

Hagrid sighed. “Yes, miss Jones?”

“We let the non-magical creatures go extinct.”

“Not our domain,” said Hagrid. “More’s the pity.”

“Seems like we have a small domain,” said Sparrow.

“See me after class,” said Hagrid, “And we can talk more about that.”

…

Sparrow had been informed by Cormac that the Forbidden Forest used to have towering pines, and that there were deep shadows, and in the deep shadows lurked all manner of nasty beasties like giant spiders and werewolves, and snobbish beasties like unicorns and centaurs.

Sparrow thought that the Forbidden Forest of the modern day was not quite as impressive, for the trees were as short as your regular old apple tree, and sparse. Mostly it was shrubland. Annoying, perhaps, and maybe fit for a centaur, but not anything to hide a giant spider. The Forbidden Shrubland. The name just didn’t ring. Ooh, a forbidden shrubland, what does it have, thorn bushes and stinging ants? Perhaps it would have been better to call the place “badlands”, but some names stuck around.

There were few thorn bushes that Sparrow ever noticed along the shrubs of the edge. Nor a significant amount of vile beasts. They did, however, hide a surprising number of Rhiannons, which blended into the shrubs perfectly. In fact, Sparrow was pretty certain that a significant number of these tall birds had been shrubs a few seconds ago. Then again, it was easy to mistake a tall, long-legged bird for a low bush. Perhaps that was what they counted on.

It didn’t help that they fixed the girl with a glare far more intelligent than she was used to getting from any creature.

“Let me tell ye about domains,” said Hagrid, sitting on a wide stump. “Beasties have their domains. Shouldn’t go out of them, or they might overrun th’landscape and ruin it. What do muggle call’em…‘invasive species’, I think. These birds here, they’re a monument to that.”

“How – ”

“Long story. My point is, Wizards also have their own domains. Ye might think we’re cooped up, but it keeps us safe, and it keeps the world safe. We don’t go about budging our way into muggle affairs, and they don’t ask us to grant wishes, and that’s that.”

“You want to keep the wizarding world hidden because you don’t want to grant wishes,” said Sparrow. “Sounds a bit selfish.”

“There’s more to it than that!” said Hagrid. “Think of me job, right? I know all kinds of nasty beasties. What do ye think would happen if they could just run around all over the place? What if a nundu could get into the London Underground? The Statute of Wizarding Secrecy isn’t just a law, lass. It’s a whole system, and it keeps everyone safe. And that’s that.”

“Well then,” said Sparrow, “Maybe everyone in the world needs magic, so they can defend themselves.”

Hagrid clapped a hand on Sparrow’s shoulder, and fixed her with a steady gaze. “Listen t’ me, girl. Yer trying to go down a dangerous road. I won’t have it. I said That’s That and I mean it. I don’t want you talking about this subject again, you understand? And I’ll tell all the teachers about it. I’ll tell them that if they hear you talking about breaking the Statute, you’ll get a detention with me. And you’ll see just how nasty some beasts can be. Understand?”

Sparrow nodded.

“Run off t’ yer next class, then.”

…

Sparrow’s next class, by sheer luck, had been Defense Against the Dark Arts, and not only was it been Defense Against the Dark Arts, it was the day they were practicing shield charms. So Sparrow hadn’t missed anything when she arrived five minutes late.

The professor, a man in his thirties named Hermetray Budge, decided to discipline Sparrow by making her teach the entire class how to do a shield charm. She was, after all, known to be quite competent at it. And the class seemed to be keen on having the mighty Shield girl teach them.

Yet, for all that the shield charm was simple to say and easy to cast, Sparrow could see the class growing frustrated. She was confused, for everyone’s shield was perfectly formed, bright as anything. It took a little work for Professor Budge to get a stunning spell through them.

“What is the matter?” said Sparrow. “You’re all doing it properly.”

“No we aren’t,” said Bertrand Bulstrode. “Things are still getting through. These are supposed to be unbreakable. How do you manage to get yours to be perfect, Miss Perfect Shield?”

“Well, I just – ” Sparrow hesitated. She didn’t actually know.

“Well done, class,” said Professor Budge. “Well done indeed, I think you’ve got the hang of it. Five points to Gryffindor for Sparrow’s willingness to lead the class.”

“Hufflepuff,” said Sparrow.

“Oh right, right. Now, class, let us discuss cushioning charms…”

…

After class Sparrow stayed behind, and sat upon the professor’s desk as he went around rearranging chairs.

“Yes?” said Professor Budge. “What is it?”

“I was hoping you could help me figure out this business with the shield spell,” said Sparrow. “I don’t actually know what I’m doing. Wound up causing some people a fair bit of trouble.” She explained the situation with the ricocheting shield.

“Hrm,” said the professor. “Perhaps you do know what you’re doing, and you just aren’t paying attention? There is a mental component that goes into spells, after all.” He finished arranging the chairs, then swept Sparrow off his desk with a wave of his wand. She brought an ink bottle to the floor with her. The Professor waved his wand and the stain disappeared. “Yes, magic accomplished without speaking. Something you will learn eventually. The spoken part is only to guide your mind.”

“So…what if I say one thing and I’m thinking another?”

“That would be quite a mental trick, to say something out of your mouth at the very moment your mind was sying something else! But I suppose you would wind up casting the spell you were thinking of.”

“That must not be it, then. I thought for sure it was. Last year in the Hufflepuff common room, I broke a mirror because something bounced off my shield at high speed. I thought it was because I was thinking “expelliarmus” while I was casting the shield. But that wasn’t it? What could it be, then?”

“I’m not sure,” said Professor Budge. “But you managed to re-create the effect by accident this year, so there must be some hidden mechanism to all this, some cause that was replicated. Tell me, what exactly were you thinking, when you broke the mirror?”

It was a bit difficult to remember one’s specific thoughts of a year ago. “I remember hating the mirror,” said Sparrow. “It was an ugly, awful thing. I wanted it gone.”

“And what exactly were you thinking when you were reacting to Miss Carrow’s missiles?”

“I was thoroughly frustrated with that awful girl.”

“Hm. Well, this all sounds like it could confirm some suspicions of mine regarding spell mechanics. I have often thought that one’s emotional state has something to do with how a spell works. Tell me, when you cast a shield, what are you usually thinking?”

“I am thinking…er…usually I’m offended that people are throwing things at other people, because that’s rude. And I don’t like it when students hurt each other.”

“Are you saying that you’re casting the shield between other people?”

“You know I can project the thing pretty far.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve seen you do that in class, but you mean you’re putting up barriers between two people, neither of whom are attacking you?”

“Yes…what are you getting at?”

“I am only thinking that they might not appreciate such interference, that’s all. You know how it is with human pride, yes? That someone stopped from taking revenge might feel as though their righteous anger was being casually disregarded for the sake of keeping Order. I’ve seen that happen a few times in my travels, where a government trying to establish its authority creates friction with local customs of upholding personal honor through combat. Did you not consider this?”

“I have only considered that I am not going to let people harm each other on my watch.”

“Ah,” said the Professor. “There we go. You are not merely offended, but determined. I imagine that is what makes your shield strong. I have never seen you falter in the face of any challenge I have set you.”

“Strong,” said Sparrow. “Not unbreakable. I’ve had my shield break a few times.”

“And what had happened to your determination in those times?”

Once it had been just after her grandfather had died. Once it had been just before a duel with Jocasta, when Jill kissed her on the cheek. Once it had been after she had seen a dragon for the first time. To be sure, the moment of seeing the dragon has also involved her trying to hold up a ton of falling rock, which itself had been more daunting than anything before, and Sparrow might not have even considered trying to meet that challenge if Jill hadn’t come right up beside her in a most romantic and foolhardy fashion.

“I faltered,” said Sparrow.

“This is excellent evidence for my theory,” said Professor Budge. “I must write a letter to the Department of Mysteries. You should run along now. Go and practice your shield charm with different emotional states.”

Sparrow left the classroom with even more on her mind than before.


	3. The Halloween Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only reason not to dance with everyone is that time is finite.

In the ensuing weeks Jill still did not speak to Sparrow, nor did Violet say anything in regards to her own desired meeting, and Sparrow began to seek Cormac’s company even more often. The most communication that she got was a note left on her pillow one evening. All it read was, _I am not angry at you_.

No further explanation.

Sparrow was left as confused as she was reassured, and yet as lonely as ever, and in such solitude terrible thoughts can take root. Sparrow began to consider the possibility that Jill had simply had enough of discussing the Statute of Secrecy, and whatever had happened in early September was simply the straw that broke the camel’s back. Perhaps Jill was not mad at her, and thought she was leaving Sparrow gently? It was a horrifying possibility. It was a horrifying thought, that the friendship between the two girls could be broken after all.

And yet – who had rushed to her side when that mountain of stone had come down on her, years ago? Who always rushed to her side in the moments her shield broke? Who had defended Sparrow’s reputation in public even as they argued in private? Would that same girl up and leave her without a word over an argument that had only ever been theoretical?

And yet, she had up and left without a word for some reason, and here was Sparrow alone.

This issue came to the fore at the Halloween Ball.

The ball was one of those affairs that, in an era of greater misery, was meant to stand in bright contrast. Professor Flutwick had pushed for more celebrations, for the sake of children who would otherwise feel as dreary as the wet season was becoming. And so on the evening of 31 October, the Great Hall was decorated in the professor’s inimitable style, with cut-out paper bats flittering this way and that between the innumerable Jack-O-Lanterns and the ceiling, which, in contrast to its usual veracity, was displaying a clear moonlit night while rain pelted the great windows.

The hall was lit only by the Jack-O-Lanterns, and Sparrow was glad of it, for her formal robes consisted of a plum gown with white lace sleeves, which her mother had packed for her with a wink. It was old-fashioned enough that Sparrow wondered if it had ever been in fashion; the dim light of the hall was the only setting in which it looked anything besides frumpy.

Sparrow stood there on the sidelines, without her Jill, for the first time in years. They had always gone to balls togther, and danced mostly with each other. This time, though, Sparrow could not see Jill in the dim light, nor could she spot Violet.

And there was a girl, nearly as broad and tall as Jill. One whose name Sparrow had never learned, for she was older than Sparrow, and rarely in the same classes, save for one year where she and Sparrow had been placed in the same time blocks for Care of Magical Creatures. In that year Sparrow had always homed in on the sight of the girl, for not only was the girl as imposing as Jill, she was, in a school full of brown and black students, the only one who had skin darker than Sparrow’s. Which was no mean feat. The girl practically absorbed light.

More to the point, she was the only student who never hesitated to approach the creatures that Hagrid presented, and always placed herself close to the front of the class, such that, if Sparrow wished to pay attention, it was impossible not to notice her. Presumably Hagrid had called out her name many times, but somehow Sparrow never remembered it.

Sparrow had terrible marks for Hagrid’s class that year.

This evening, the mysterious mighty girl wore a suit that appeared to be changing colors as she danced with one person after another. On occasion, where the girl spun her partner into the shadows, her skin blended into the shadows and made it look as though the suit was empty. In the shadows, only her long mane of dreadlocks made it clear that there was a head above the jacket.

And she was always in the lead. The girl was as butch as a hunk of muggle machinery.

“I noticed her as well,” said Cormac.

Sparrow jumped. She had not noticed him coming up beside her.

Cormac chuckled. “A regular halloween scare,” he said. “Sorry about that. Do you know the name of that girl?”

“No,” said Sparrow. “Come to think of it, I don’t know the names of many people here.”

“How about that,” said Cormac. “You would protect them, but you don’t know them. Seems a trifle aloof, don’t you think?”

“Well, I mean – ”

“Do you wish to know them?”

Sparrow frowned. “You sound like you’re trying to suggest something.”

“I’m just saying, this is a perfect opportunity to get to know people. All you have to do is go and dance with them.”

Sparrow crossed her arms. “Dance with them. With these people? I’ve been frustrated by their conduct towards each other for years.”

“And I assume you would only wish to dance with Jill in any case.”

“Perhaps.”

“Would you dance with me, then? I promise I won’t step on your feet.”

"Well..."

"Well what?"

"I'm used to dancing with someone who is quite a bit taller than me. Might be a little awkward to dance with someone at my height."

"Hey, if you want to be able to dance with anyone else --"

"Ah," said Sparrow, "but perhaps I do not. Perhaps there is no need at all. Perhaps my dear Jill will come waltzing my way and -- then again that's probably not happening. Alright, you lead."

They took each other's hands, and spun out onto the dance floor, stepping as carefully as they could for two fourteen-year-olds in dim lighting, which involved a fair amount of stopping and starting as they tried to get into each other’s rhythm. They did their best, and made no exasperated faces at each other, and, as it happened, looked not a bit different than any of the other awkward couples their age.

Yet at a certain point, Violet Brown finally appeared, and she cut in, leaving Sparrow somewhat in the lurch. Violet and Cormac waltzed away, perfectly in sync.

And then appeared the girl that Sparrow had been following, whose suit, in this light, now looked red and gold. She took Sparrow’s hand and placed a hand on her waist, and led her in a slow waltz, without saying much of anything. Sparrow in turn felt no desire to speak, but to stare upward into the girl’s eyes in fascinated intimidation. Surely there was nothing that could harm Sparrow Jones of the Mighty Shield, but this girl was already past her defenses.

After some time, the girl finally spoke. “I have not asked your name,” she said, “for I know it already. You are well known, Sparrow Jones. But do you know me?”

Sparrow shook her head.

“Do you know anyone?”

“Jillian Patil,” said Sparrow. “Cormac McKinnon. Violet Brown, when she feels like talking to me. Jocasta Carrow, not that I want to. That’s about it.”

“And yet what I hear of you is that you would – you do – protect everyone. And yet – ” the girl dipped her low – “you do not know them. You disdain them from a distance. How strange. Why would you seek to save people you do not know? Why would you seek to protect people you hold in contempt?”

“You’re talking kind of funny. Did you eat a Shakespeare play for breakfast?”

The girl chuckled. “Funny indeed! I find the tone of such speech amusing, especially when it comes in an inapprioriate moment. But please, dear Sparrow of the mighty shield, be so kind as to answer the question of this humble inquirer.”

“If you let me out of this position, I might tell you.”

The girl stood her back up. “Well then. Tell.”

“Tell _me_. You’re a seventh-year, right? You must know the shield charm by now. Why don’t _you_ protect them?”

The girl laughed, and her suit turned yellow and black. “Oh, my dear. I fool many people with my height. I am but a fifth-year. But to answer your question, yes, I could cast a shield charm everywhere I saw misbehavior in the halls. And why don’t I? Because I have not been asked. Because I worry about intruding in the lives of strangers, people who might feel annoyed that someone was barging into their personal problems. Do you know, I have managed to dance with everyone on this floor? And it was all to ask about you, girl.”

Sparrow shivered. “That’s, uh. Um.”

The girl grinned.

“You’re not helping!”

“My apologies. What did you wish to say?”

“I wanted to say,” said Sparrow with some shortness of breath, “that it is intimidating enough to know that the giant of a girl who I have been noticing for four years without bothering to speak to her has, in fact, noticed me. The fact that you seem interested in me is even more intimidating. What’s your deal now? Do you wish to take me to bed after all? Do you wish to _ravish_ me? Have you been waiting this long?”

The girl laughed. “Oh! No. No, little bird, you do not have to worry about that, not at all, not ever.”

“Alright, now I’m disappointed.”

“Do not be. You never had a chance.”

“Now I’m insulted.”

“Do not be. No one had a chance.”

“How’s that?”

“Never mind. Just take it as it is.”

“Fine,” said Sparrow. “You’re interested in me in some kind of platonic sense and also went around asking every single person about me. I am simply annoyed, then. It’s like this entire evening revolves around me.”

“Indeed,” said the girl. “A bit self-centered, eh? Do you want to know what people think of you?”

“No,” said Sparrow. “No, I think it’s my responsibility to figure that out on my own. Thank you for your effort, though.”

“No trouble,” said the girl. “It gave me an excuse to learn the names of everyone here, anyway. But ah, I think there is someone who wishes to dance with you. I must be gone.”

Sparrow spun around, hoping to find the one person she had been missing this whole time. Alas, the girl who stood before her was pale as the driven snow, her dress and her hair both melting into shadows, such that her face, shoulders and arms stood out in the darkness as if floating. Precisely the opposite color effect that her immediate predecessor had.

Jocasta giggled. “Your face,” she said, “just fell in the most amusing manner. I am sorry to disappoint you, my dear adversary. May I have this dance?”

Sparrow hesitated for a moment, as the dancing students twirled around her and Jocasta. It was a moment long enough that, as Jocasta was waiting in silence, the amused expression on her face began to look faintly awkward as she held it in place.

Might as well bite the bullet. “You may have this dance,” said Sparrow through gritted teeth. “I lead.”

“Not a chance,” said Jocasta. “I saw you lead.”

“I think Cormac and I were both trying to lead,” said Sparrow. “But, if you wish! Very well! Guide me, o great and terrible dancer, my sworn adversary.”

“You sound as though you are attempting to sound archaic.”

“Just trying to imitate a curious new friend. Come, thou beguiling raven-haired beauty, thou duchess of tricksters and scalawags and scoundrels. Let us dance.”

Jocasta took Sparrow’s hand, and put a hand on her waist, and led her in a lively waltz around the hall. As Jocasta was closer to Jill's height than to Cormac's, the two managed to find each other’s rhythm in short order, although managing to avoid other couples was somewhat of a challenge, for Jocasta seemed to have eyes only for Sparrow, and Sparrow was too busy following her rhythm to watch where they were going.

“Have you danced with the tall girl?” said Sparrow.

“Specify, please.”

“The one with the suit.”

“Again, specify.”

“The girl who looks more intimidating than pretty.”

“Again – ”

“The one who danced with everyone.”

“Ah, yes.” Jocasta grinned. “You don’t know her name?”

“Stop beating around the bush!”

“Miranda McClivert.” Jocasta tried to dip Sparrow, but did not do it so low. “Alas, I have not strength enough to sweep you off your feet as she did for me. I bet she swept you off your feet. Who knows? She may be yet another one who pines for you.”

“So you did dance with her, you’re saying.”

“Oh, yes,” said Jocasta. “I think I could do it all night. But oh, if I did. I would worry that I had given up on Jill. Have you seen her?”

“No,” said Sparrow. “I was hoping you had.”

“What a pity.”

“You fancy her then, after all? You’re not just having a laugh with all this rivalry business?”

“I don’t know.” Jocasta’s face, for the first time in a few weeks, registered an emotion other than smugness. “I do not know. I have seen the way she looks at you, sometimes. I thought she only had eyes for you. I have also seen the way you look at her, on occasion. And, um. I’ve seen you with your arms around each other, up on the walkways.”

“You were spying on us?”

“I was hoping to catch her alone for once! But no, you’re always there with her, going on about the stark beauty of the land or something. What’s it in this season? The gathering storm?”

“Gathering blue,” said Sparrow. “Growing cold, not just in the land but in my heart, for nothing can grow admist endless rain. The sky cries for what the land lost.”

“Ah ha,” said Jocasta. “You are already skilled with the high-flying tone after all.”

“When the subject interests me,” said Sparrow. “Such as when I consider the gloomy state of the world. I like to have Jill by my side in those moments, but…she has grown cold as well. I still don’t know what happened. She won’t tell me.”

“She’ll come around,” said Jocasta. “I know that girl well enough. The embers in her heart always catch light again after long. And she’ll come back to you.”

“Back to me? You sound as though you’re not cutting in after all.”

“I could, I could. And that would be quite the prank. But perhaps more awful than anything I had done.”

Sparrow shook her head as if to clear water from her ears. “Do my ears deceive me? Is the awful, conniving, scheming Jocasta Carrow giving up the opportunity of her dreams because she wishes to be kind?”

“Please,” said Jocasta. “If I were to hurt you, I would hurt Jill, and I would have no chance with her. Alas for monogamy. It leaves me with such a dilemma.”

“On that note,” said Sparrow, “why do you prank people so much anyway?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know. Ta-ta, my dear.” Jocasta spun away and vanished into the darkness, leaving Sparrow to realize that the girl had somehow managed to unravel the entirety of Sparrow’s sleeves.

A simple Diffindo charm severed the hanging strands, and Sparrow decided that the resulting sleeveless gown was much more chic than what she had started out with. Jocasta had done her a favor. Perhaps she was off her game.

The evening came and went, and Jill never appeared at the ball, her existence only becoming clear later, when she stepped through the Hufflepuff Common Room door, swept past Sparrow and entered the second girls dormitory without a word.


	4. To the Dragon Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sparrow meets another friend, and begins to make a friend of an enemy.

In subsequent weeks Jill still managed to avoid Sparrow at every possible turn, and Sparrow was becoming increasingly frustrated, despite Jocasta’s reassurance. Which was, in a way, fortunate, because it meant that she was experiencing a pure emotion that wasn’t the usual determination. And there were even times, as when Jocasta lured Sparrow around with an Ever-Retreating Galleon, or when she somehow turned Sparrow’s school robes into Slytherin colors, that Sparrow felt a pure anger, greater than even what she had felt amidst the Ricocheting Sheild incident, which the normally reserved girl was not used to.

On this basis, one evening in the common room, Sparrow asked Cormac to help her practice the shield charm.

“Surely you don’t need any more practice,” said Cormac.

“I need to experiment. Go on. Throw something at me.”

Cormac faffed about for a bit before picking a seat cushion. He tossed it in Sparrow’s direction. “Protego!” she shouted, bringing her wand up faster than blinking.

The cushion hit the shield and disintegrated.

“Erm,” said Cormac. “That’s new.”

“It supports Professor Budge’s theory,” said Sparrow. “Emotions have some kind of effect on spells. Now I just need to STOP being angry, and my shield won’t be a hazard to life and limb.”

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned. There was Jocasta Carrow.

If Sparrow had cast her shield at that moment, Miss Carrow would likely have been disintegrated.

“How the hell did you get in here?” said Cormac.

“I have my ways,” said Jocasta. “I just wanted to let you know that your erstwhile lover wants to meet you at the Dragon Tower at midnight.”

“Which one?” said Sparrow. “Violet, Jill, or you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re the one who keeps going on about how people are interested in me. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you’re projecting your own emotional state onto other people.”

“I – ”

“And you mended my skull after fracturing it. And you danced with me. And you prank me more often, lately. The bit with the galleon was clever. You made me look like a right fool. I think you’re also interested in me, Jocasta. Am I right?”

Jocasta’s face was red. “You’re the one who called me a beguiling beauty.”

“I was just trying to have a bit of a laugh!”

“Were you really!” Jocasta gritted her teeth. “Never mind, never mind. Dragon tower at midnight! Be there!”

There was a small thump of displaced air, and suddenly there was a tiny little insect where Jocasta had been. It flew away.

“Now that explains a lot,” said Cormac. “Do you think she’s registered?”

“I would definitely put it past her,” said Sparrow.

…

Argus Filch had been unlucky and cruel in life, and in death he was not much happier. He had stuck to the mortal plane as a ghost, being happy with the way he could surprise students more easily than before, but otherwise still miserable. Happy people do not leave ghosts.

The Slytherin prefect, Percival Bulstrode, had informed Sparrow of Filch’s ghost, and had advised her on tips for avoiding the old codger. Soft shoes were essential, as well as a total lack of personal illumination. Preferrably a disguise charm as well.

“That’s all a lot of rubbish,” said Cormac at approximately 11 PM. “He can see right through disguise charms, I’ve heard it straight from Lenkin Zabini. No, we’re going to need a Muggle solution.”

“What!” said Sparrow. “Are you saying there’s no magic that can help us? Surely there’s an advanced spell in the library somewhere.”

“And you could find it and perfect it in an hour? I don’t think so. You’d have to get to the – oh, you’ve got the advanced charm book checked out again.”

Sparrow flipped through the pages. “See here, this is the medical section. If we make our ears twice as large – ”

“Please,” said Cormac. “For once in my life I want a Muggle thing to beat a Wizard thing. Is that too much to ask?”

“What exactly do you suggest, then?”

…

There was one professor in the school, by the name of Mincent Warbeck, who stood approximately seven feet tall.

Sparrow and Cormac, at their age, were both about four feet five inches. So with Sparrow on Cormac’s shoulders, they came to a little under Warbeck’s height. It was fortunate that the standard wizarding uniform of black robes obscured so much in terms of shape and size, especially at night.

“This is completely ridiculous,” whispered Sparrow.

“It will work,” whispered Cormac. “The best way to slip past a guard is to look like you belong there.”

The going along the upper corridor was tricky. The roof beams nearly hit Sparrow in the head and Cormac was struggling to maintain a steady pace, and Sparrow found herself having to lean one way and the other in a counterbalalance as Cormac struggled to keep Sparrow upright. In the darkness they looked like a frightening giant man who was more than slightly tipsy. In the moonlight they looked like two twerps stacked on top of each other.

It was highly lucky, then, that Filch spotted them before they hit the next patch of moonlight.

“Who goes there?” said the luminous Filch, as he floated up through the floor. “Who is this wandering the halls at night? Who on earth are you?”

Sparrow put on her best Mincent Warbeck voice. “My name,” said Sparrow, “is Mincent Vincente Theodolphus Bombastus von Warbeck.”

“Oh right,” said Filch. “The new professor. What do you teach again?”

“Erm – ”

“Arithmancy,” whispered Cormac.

“Arithmancy,” said Sparrow.

“What was that? I thought I head something.”

“I heard it too,” said Sparrow. “Very strange. Almost like someone whispering. Almost like someone is here with us. Hm. Might be an intruder. Tell you what. You search that way – ” she pointed behind her – “and I’ll search ahead.”

“Your arms are oddly short for a tall man,” said Filch.

“Er…one of the students played a nasty prank. That black-haired Slytherin girl. Haven’t shaken the effects off yet.”

“Ah yes,” said Filch. “Jocasta Carrow. She brings back bad memories. But I don’t think we should search that way. You just came from that way and you didn’t see anything. Why don’t we search forward together?”

“Uh…Plenty of things in this wizarding world are invisible,” said Sparrow. “Such as can only be revealed with the wave of a wand. Tell you what. You search forward that way and I’ll search back the way I came, just to see if I missed something.”

“If it is an intruder,” said Filch, “I ought to be alerting the castle right now.”

“I’m sure it’s just a student out of bed,” said Sparrow.

“You said it was an intruder.” Filch narrowed his eyes at Sparrow. “Which is it?”

“I must have been mistaken,” said Sparrow. “It is far more likely to be a student out of bed. Hogwarts security is tight these days, as you said.”

“Right,” said Filch. “Well, Professor Mincent, I wish I could ask why you were also out of bed, considering that you have a reputation for sleeping like a log as soon as the sun goes down. In fact, I will ask. What exactly are you doing, wandering the upper corridor, which happens to lead to the Dragon Tower, where I just so happened to catch two students waiting for a friend, such that I nearly had to serve them detentions before I got the whole story?”

“Uh – ”

“Not to mention that the portraits saw them sneaking around. They also informed me that two other students were out of bed after hours, one of them carrying a bundle of cloth.”

“Well, you see – ”

“Leave your explanations. I’m inclined to be lenient tonight.”

“Erm – ”

“Goodnight, Sparrow Jones. I will dock you and your friend there fifty house points each from Hufflepuff, but you may go on to your meeting. There is someone you should meet.”

He floated off.

…

“May I present Blaise Brown,” said Violet. “The elder child of my house.”

“Though not its heir,” said Blaise, “after I swore myself to this tower.”

The Dragon Tower stood gleaming alabaster in the moonlight, a tower taller and far wider than the astronomy tower. The Astronomy professor had raised quite a fuss when the new tower had risen, because suddenly the there was this shape getting in the way of seeing Orion. But one does not argue with dragons. The Astronomy professor had to put up and shut up. Nor indeed was the Astronomy Professor’s opinion shared by the entire castle, for someone had managed to put a flagpole atop the point of the tower’s conical roof, assuming Sparrow’s glimpses of the castle at a distance were accurate.

Nobody was sure why the tower had risen, nor how the dragons had decided to call it home in the first place, but then, nobody was certain why the castle had started to shift its corridors on a daily basis either. Some people blamed the extra defensive spells that had been put on at the battle of Hogwarts, others said that magic was somehow waking up. Some people blamed goblins. But these were the people that blamed goblins for everything, including the rise of Voldemort.

And there was Blaise Brown, keeper of the dragons, one who had not come with the tower, but who, according to the rumors, had appeared there shortly after the dragons arrived. Whatever that meant.

One normally saw nothing of the Keeper of Dragons. Blaise only ever stepped out of the shadows on nights when the moon was clear and full. Violet could not say why, nor could Sparrow tell. Maybe it was a Romantic thing, like the green cape and the tall green pointed hat. Something to look impressive. The cape certainly looked nice and dramatic in the evening breeze.

Sparrow wondered if this vaunted Keeper of Dragons could get one of them to breathe a little fire down on her. The night was getting cold.

“Greetings,” said Sparrow, taking Blaise’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you, mister…miss…”

“Maybe,” said Blaise.

“Maybe Brown,” said Sparrow. “Fair enough.” She turned to Violet. “Why have you called me here? If it was for a Tryst, this location is hardly private.”

Violet’s face turned red. “Excuse me?”

Sparrow shook her head. “Sorry, sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind this evening. I might have spoken too frankly with someone I like and embarrassed them and then I did it again and now I’m doing it again and – and um – God Dammit, please just tell me what’s supposed to be going on here.”

“Violet called you here,” said Blaise, “because of me. Kind of.”

“Explain,” said Sparrow.

“Someday I will,” said Blaise. “But you’re here for Violet’s questions, right? Violet, go ahead and ask.”

Violet looked sheepish for the first time that Sparrow had ever seen. “It’s a bit of an awkward question,” she said. “Which is why I wanted to ask it here. This seems like an appropriately dramatic place. As well as sufficiently discreet. But now I’m thinking we should have done this in humbler settings.”

“Go on,” said Blaise. “I’m sure your friend doesn’t bite.”

“Except when she wants to,” said Cormac.

Sparrow whirled around. “Cormac! You can’t possibly know anything about that!”

“Anything about what?” said Cormac. “I was talking about your shield charm! What did you think I was – ”

“Some people still have delicate matters on their mind, did you not consider that?”

“Delicate indeed,” said Violet. “Ooh la la.”

“For God’s sake,” said Sparrow, “don’t you get started too!”

Violet and Blaise were both collapsing in fits of giggles. Sparrow crossed her arms and waited for them to cease.

After a few seconds Violet regained her composure, still wearing a mirthful grin. “Sorry about that,” she said. “It was a good opportunity to break the ice. As for my question, yes, yes, I suppose I ought to get around to that now, shouldn’t I? All I wanted to know is if you really intend to break down the Statute of Secrecy.”

For a few seconds no one spoke. The chilling wind alone had its say, as it picked up enough to set the flagpole clanking, high in the distance above.

“You are correct,” said Sparrow. “It is an awkward question. I’ve had a fair few arguments about the matter with a good friend. Maybe I wound up driving her away. Maybe that makes it harder to talk about now. And yet – here you are, willing to ask me about it. Not openly disdainful like some of my fellow students, nor visibly exasperated nor chiding. Goodness, you’ve been meaning to ask me about this for weeks, haven’t you? I should have realized that you were bringing me here to discuss that subject. I wouldn’t feel like I had been caught off-guard – ”

“You are stalling,” said Cormac.

Sparrow shot him a glance. “The answer is yes. I would like to bring down the Statute of Secrecy. At the very least, I would like to be able to use the powers in our hands to restore some green to the world, without interference from people trying to maintain secrecy and seclusion. Would you consider that too much to ask?”

Violet did not answer, nor would she meet Sparrow’s eyes.

“What are your concerns?”

Again Violet did not answer, though she met Sparrow’s eyes this time.

“Would it reassure you to know that I am not entirely committed to such a course?”

“It would,” said Violet. “I study Wizarding History as much as you do, you know. I’m having my misgivings. I was worried that you were not having misgivings. Because I know about what muggles did to us. I know what awful things they did in their fear. If they knew that we existed again…it could go bad again, and we’d wind up hiding again. But.” She gestured at Blaise. “My sibling here, they’re practically a dragon by now – ”

“Come now,” said Blaise. “I haven’t even grown scales yet.”

“ – and dragons shouldn’t be cooped up like they are now, forced to wait until the rainy season to go flying at all. And I’ve been thinking about this idea ever since you started blathering about it.”

“Ah yes,” said Sparrow. “I haven’t been very discreet about my opinions, have I?”

“Quite. And I’ve been studying muggle history too. Which is why I’m still torn, because the things they did to each other…do not bear repeating, not now. That’s a story for later.”

“What would make the decision for you?”

Violet looked up to the heavens. “Ideas too wild to venture. Of all the people in the school…you’re the safest person to stand behind but possibly the least safe to confide in. If I explained things to you fully, I might wither under the stern gaze of the girl who fancies herself something of a Disapproving Mother to the students.”

“Is…that really how I come across?”

“When you don’t even give me a chance to defend myself? Yes. That’s how I see it, anyway. So I couldn’t venture ideas around you unless I believed in them strongly myself, strongly enough to hold onto them despite stern judgement.”

Sparrow considered the possibility of admitting that she did, in fact, hold the student body in a fair amount of contempt. She thought better of it. “Surely,” she said, “despite the risk of my haughty air, I would be the most receptive person in the school for you to ask about the Statute of Secrecy.”

“Ah,” said Violet. “Perhaps so. But then, what if I do discuss it with you, and you decide it’s time to get the ball rolling? Then I would feel responsible.”

“It’s my idea,” said Sparrow. “I thought of it first.”

“Technically it was Carlotta Pinkstone’s idea first, decades before you.”

“Who do you think I’m drawing inspiration from? I know Wizarding history.”

Cormac was gazing up at the heavens. “Funny it is,” he said. “Muggles think they can reach the stars, and they have wondrous devices to carry them closer. But they’ve only gotten as close as the moon. If Wizards could help them, would they reach the stars eventually? But Wizards can’t help them, because Magic itself does not want to work with electricity. Talk about a spoilsport.”

Violet blinked. “Okay,” she said, “you guessed my wild idea. And you stole my thunder. Thanks for that.”

“Ideas go nowhere if we keep them to ourselves,” said Cormac. “I’ve always admired Sparrow here for being outspoken about an idea that is, frankly, hazardous to her life and limb. There’s still pureblood supremacists in the world, you know.”

“I know,” said Sparrow. “But there’s so much I want to know about the world entire, and the way things are right now…I’m more than a little stifled.”

“Spoken like a Ravenclaw,” said Cormac. “Yet, what is the goal of this knowledge? A Ravenclaw seeks knowledge for its own sake. A slytherin would gather knowledge for the sake of power. A Gryffindor gathers knowledge for the sake of adventure. What does a Hufflepuff gather knowledge for?”

“For protecting my friends,” said Sparrow. “Why do you think I can do a good shield charm?”

“The love of friends,” said Blaise. “Spoken like a true Hufflepuff. Well, Sparrow. Speaking as the only legal adult in this situation, I should say that I am simultaneously impressed and disturbed by your great ambitions at a tender age. Not that I am necessarily surprised. I am quite familiar with Violet, after all. But, like I said, I am disturbed. You all are how old, exactly?”

“Fourteen,” said Sparrow.

“Thirteen,” said Violet.

“Fourteen,” said Cormac. “But we’re all Fourth Years, is the important part.”

“Exactly. Old enough to get a sense of your distinctive capabilities, yet young enough to know nothing of patience nor very much of endurance. Just…keep that in mind before you all get in over your heads. I wouldn’t want to lose my sister to this business, nor two new friends.”

“You live with dragons,” said Cormac, “and you’re counseling us about danger?”

“They invited me,” said Blaise. “And I keep this door shut. So don’t go tut-tutting at me, young man. Now, it’s all well past everyone’s bed time and I’m sure you all have work to do tomorrow. So if you have time later and you can all sneak back to me, I may tell you more about my situation. I’m sure you have stories to tell me as well. As for now -- I have my own work to do. Some dragons are restless in the moonlight.”

A long silver head on a long silver neck stuck itself out of a window and breathed white fire into the sky.

“And restless dragons, only me and Charlie Weasley can handle. Be off, now.”

…

Cormac and Sparrow stood before the barrels that concealed the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. Sparrow raised her hand to knock on what she thought was the right barrel, but someone in the darkness knocked on a different one, and there was a splashing sound.

“My goodness,” said Cormac. “It sounds as though someone has tried to prank us, and has failed. Hello, Jocasta.”

Jocasta spluttered. “I suppose that’s my fault. I should have picked the barrel above your head. So what happened at the tower? Did you have that romantic liaison after all?”

“You’re still on about that!” said Sparrow. “For Dimbledore’s sake, Jocasta – ”

“Dumbledore. It’s Dumbledore. You make yourself sound like a total m – muggleborn.”

“I am impressed,” said Cormac. “You avoided the M-word deliberately. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard a Slytherin do that.”

“Yeah, well.” Jocasta muttered and waved her wand at her sleeves to dry them. “Last time I called someone a…M-word…they licked their hand and slapped it on my face, and then everyone started singing about how I had mud on my face, and they started stomping and clapping. It was really weird. I’m not going to risk that again. Anyway, Sparrow. Was there any kissy-kiss?”

“Nothing romantic happened,” said Sparrow. “Just business. It was kind of annoying, really.”

“So what DID happen?”

“I don’t trust you enough to tell you,” said Sparrow.

“Humph,” said Jocasta. “Bet I know what that’s about.” She disappeared into the shadows.

Cormac prepared to knock on the correct door. But he hesitated. “Argus said there were two friends waiting for us.”

“Blaise and Violet, right?”

“He didn’t know the situation was about Blaise until he was informed. And they’re not a student anyway. So who was it? How did they get up to the tower without alerting Filch in the first place?”

“Boo,” said a voice that Sparrow hadn’t heard in a while.

Cormac jumped.

There was Jill at the far wall, holding her broom, a Nimbus Plus Ultra.

Sparrow moved to embrace her friend.

Jill, for her part, reciprocated. “I always enjoy having your arms around me,” she said. “I wanted to let you know that.”

“Does that mean you want to talk to me again?”

“Maybe. I have some things to think about. Give me a week or so.”

“As you wish.” Sparrow let her go, and turned to Cormac. "Um, Cormac, I was meaning to ask -- ”

"I will help you with _anything_ you need," said Cormac. He gave a pointed look to both Sparrow and Jill, but it was not a look of suspicion or disapproval. he appeared to have a twinkle in his eye.

"No no," said Sparrow. "I didn't need help with anything, I just had a question."

"Hmmmmmmmm?"

"You can use a broom, right? So why did you want to use the Upper Corridor to get to the tower?"

Cormac blinked.

"I mean, I get that you wanted to do a muggle thing but maybe you could have...had me hang from one of the long-brooms with my hands, or something."

"Oh I bet I know," said Jill. "I bet he likes you. I bet a _boy_ likes you, Sparrow. I bet _someone_ has a _crush._ "

Cormac's face was red. "For heaven's sake," he said, "Don't you go pulling a Jocasta on me after she did it to you! Anyway I've already got someone else in mind and Sparrow's someone I enjoy hanging around thank you very much goodbye." He spun on his heels and dashed through the open common room door.

Sparrow gave Jill a quizzical look. "Pulling a Jocasta?"

Jill gave Sparrow a disappointed look in return.

"What?"

"Long story. Like I said, tell you next week."

They entered the Common Room.


	5. The Return of Jill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jill has quite a lot to say to Sparrow, but most of it can be communicated with a few simple actions that she has been dying to try.

Unfortunately, within that week someone managed to spread a rumor that Violet Brown and Sparrow Jones were dating, and the student body was proving very difficult to convince otherwise.

Which meant that Jill was suddenly not on speaking terms with Sparrow again. And this time Someone left a note Sparrow’s pillow that said _Now I am mad at you_.

It was a morning in late November, and the steady rain down rained down, fully quenching the thirsty earth. It would become a right downpour in December, and not let up until January, and the lake would fill once more. In the wet season, within the concealing curtain of rain, the headmistress saw fit to more openly manipulate things, and the rain tended to avoid hitting the castle. But it was still becoming the dreary season. Well. The other kind of dreary.

“The use of charms,” said Professor Flutwick, “is to add properties to an object. You know that well enough. But why bother to charm something when you can transfigure it? Yes, Miss Jones?”

“You don’t want to transform the object because you don’t want to hurt it.”

“That is not quite correct,” said Flutwick. “transfigurations, unless Miss Jones is doing them – ” the entire class giggled – “do not permanently injure the object, whereas charms, especially dark charms, can cause permanent changes to the object. What is the answer? Zabini?”

“You want to do something to the object that a transfiguration can’t achieve. You can’t transfigure a teacup into a portkey.”

“Indeed, Zabini, indeed. One might say that a transfiguration is an illusion powerful enough to become reality, whereas a charm is a matter of rewriting reality without bothering with illusions at all. One must be careful, of course.” And Professor Flutwick went on speaking for some time about the cheering charm.

Sparrow had spent the past few years confused by Professor Flutwick, because something about him seemed slightly off. Perhaps his nose was too small, or perhaps his ears were too big, or perhaps he was shorter than anyone seemed to have the right to be. But earlier this year she had heard that the school once held a professor named Flitwick, who was about as short as Flutwick, and had a similar face. In fact…was Flutwick even a different person? There were no rumors about Flitwick or Flutwick that she’d heard, other than a penchant for treacle.

After class, and having plenty of time this time, she confronted Flutwick with her suspicion.

“Bold as ever,” said Flutwick. “Why, you even tower angrily over me.” He waved his wand at Sparrow, and she shrunk to his height with an awkward squawk.

“What the hell was that for!” said Sparrow.

“It is as I said during class, if you were paying attention. Charms are a way of writing our will upon reality, even if only for a moment. Now, as for my own situation, let me say this: Professor Flitwick died and was buried. Wink.”

“Wink?”

“Precisely. Now, off you go.” He waved his wand and returned her to her original height.

Sparrow stumbled out the door, dizzy from the sudden changes.

…

The upper-floor corridor was dark as a tomb in the midnight’s downpour. Sparrow was practicing the night-vision charm that she had found in a book a few days ago. It seemed to be working well, although perhaps too well. Argus Filch was lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Do you want me to be docking fifty house points again,” said Filch, “and calling the head of your house? Or are you going to go back to bed?”

“I really want to talk to Blaise,” said Sparrow. “I’m ready for the whole story.”

“Hrmph. Well. It’s not like they’d be available.”

“What do you mean?”

“The moon’s not out.”

“But – oh, goodness, you’re right. That means I won’t see them again until the dry season.”

“Then I take it that means you won’t be trying to sneak by me up here again?”

“I can’t guarantee that.”

…

The next day Sparrow confronted Professor Flutwick again. This time with her wand ready.

“You’ve learned,” said Professor Flutwick. “It seems you have learned not to trust me.”

“Damn right,” said Sparrow.

“So will you be this defensive every time we converse?”

“I think it would be prudent. You did terrible things to me.”

“Indeed, indeed. And I didn’t even ask, did I? What an awful way to treat people.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“I just wanted to ask you,” said Sparrow, “about the nature of charms.”

Flutwick raised an eyebrow. “I thought we went over that in class yesterday.”

“I mean the nature of spells in general.”

Flutwick raised the other eyebrow. “Well, erm. My dear. That’s a very high-level question. Shouldn’t you be focusing on HOW to do the spells, at your age? In fact, I think you should be focusing more in my class. Your levitation charm is quite a bit wobbly. Yes, that will be your extra homework. You must practice Wingardium Leviosa tonight. I want to see you do it much better by tomorrow.”

“But – ”

“Off you go.”

…

Good old Cormac was not in the common room that evening.

Nor was anyone else, besides Jill. Which was odd indeed, for the room was normally full of students doing homework at this hour.

Jill stood there looking like she wanted to speak to Sparrow again. Sparrow did not acknowledge her, at first, for she was scanning the gaps beneath the doors of the girl’s and boys dormitories. One of them had an Extendable Ear in it. Sparrow pointed her wand at the ear and said “Expeliarmus,” but what came out was little more powerful than a flicking finger.

“We’re not going to get any privacy here,” said Sparrow. “Walk with me?”

“People will think we’ve gone out for a snog.”

“Perfect,” said Sparrow. “It will counter all those rumors about me and Violet.”

“You mean you and her – ”

“Did you ask her?”

“No.”

“Did you ask me? No. Come on.” Sparrow started for the door and motioned for Jill to follow her. “If we hit up the library I think Violet would be the only person there at this hour.”

…

Sparrow and Jill strode along the middle third-floor corridor. Some Ravenclaw students were hurrying to bed, under the watchful eyes of the portraits. If the portraits were confused about why two girls were strolling without hurry, they said nothing, for the Ravenclaw Tower entrance was, this evening, in the direction that the two girls were going, and it was not yet after curfew. Close, perhaps. But the moon had not risen. And so the girls were able to walk rather close to each other, as close as either dared, though not arm in arm.

“Speak to me for once,” said Sparrow.

“What would you have me say?”

Sparrow shrugged. “Whatever you wish to say. I’m sure there is much you want to tell me.”

“I’m not sure how to say it.”

“May I ask a question, then?”

“I can hardly stop you. I can hardly stop you from doing anything. No one can.”

Sparrow sighed. “I wish that were the case. Someday it may be. But answer me this – why have you been avoiding me for so long? I miss your warmth. Why have you been so cold?”

“Because of what you said! You said you couldn’t understand why I would be embarrassed about what Jocasta said!”

“Well I couldn’t.”

“Maybe not. But the situation wasn’t about you, was it? It was about me. It was about what I was thinking. I feel like you don’t ever really stop to think about what other people are thinking.”

“I think about other people all the time.”

“But are you thinking about what they’re thinking?”

“Well I hardly know it, do I?”

“You could ask them.”

“True enough, Miss Ditches-Her-Friends. Ah, the library. Here we are.”

The doors of the library were still open. Suddenly they were less open. “Come on,” said Sparrow. “We won’t get in after the doors close.”

She took Jill by the hand and dragged her inside. The doors closed with a boom.

Sparrow had been in muggle libraries in her early youth. They tended to be bright places, full of laughter and conversation, with sunlight pouring through windows. This library, by contrast, was a place of dark old oak wood, and hushed whispers.

Mostly from the students.

“Why exactly did you decide to jump in here?” said Jill. “And why did you drag me with you?”

“I wanted to get your opinion on a particular topic of study,” said Sparrow. “Someplace we wouldn’t be overheard.”

“Well what if the books hear us?” said Jill. “What if the librarian is still here? This place just closed. If anyone catches us in here we’ll look doubly suspicious. And furthermore, I haven’t got a chance to say everything I wanted to say to you.”

“Go ahead, then.”

“Not here,” said Jill. “As long as we’re in here I’m still mad at you.”

“Then let us leave,” said Sparrow. “We might be able to evade the prefects if we hurry back.” She moved back to the door and pulled. It would not budge. She drew her wand and whispered, “Alohamora”. The door still would not budge. “That’s a problem,” she said. “I guess the librarian takes their security seriously.”

“Did you plan this?”

“I’m hardly a sneak,” said Sparrow. “And you did say that I don’t care about what other people think. So, what do you think?”

“I think we might as well have that talk in here, if we can’t get out. Let’s just find some seats and – ” There was a snarling noise, and an unearthly howl. “And I need to figure out what the heck that was.” Jill started towards the direction of the sound.

“Get behind me,” said Sparrow, “I’ve got the unbreakable shield.”

“It’s not a perfect one! And I need to practice mine.”

“I can’t cast offensive spells,” said Sparrow. “If it comes to that I’d like you to survive long enough to get a stunner in, at least.”

“What about you surviving long enough? Just stay here. I can blast away anything I need to.”

“You know full well I’m coming with you, Jill.”

“UGH! Stubborn girl. Fine. I’ll be at your side instead of behind you, how’s that?”

They moved forward together, wands at the ready, towards where they had last heard the snarl. There was a deep growl, farther away this time but in the same direction. Then, the creak of a rusty hinge, and a metallic slamming sound, as if a heavy gate had been shut.

“Sounds like it went into the forbidden section,” said Jill. “But…only the librarian has the key, right? How did that creature get the key?”

“Onward,” said Sparrow. “Our answer lies ahead.”

…

The forbidden section of the library was forbidden for two reasons. One, it was full of books that contained knowledge too dangerous for students to be dealing with on an uncontrolled basis. Dark magic of all kinds. Yech. Not the sort of thing you were allowed to look at unless you could give your professor a really good excuse about needing to study evil.

Two, it was full of books that were, by themselves, dangerous. Sparrow had no idea why the school had decided to stock copies of the Monster Book of Monsters, but then, if anyone in the Wizarding World was going to put that stupid thing anywhere, it might as well be the forbidden section of the library of Hogwarts.

And the Monster Book of Monsters had a lot of friends. So Sparrow had to keep her shield spell up, and essentially plow her way through a pile of very angry books. There was one with long spider legs, and one with a nasty stinger tail, and a lot of books that had big grasping hands with sharp claws.

If the girl had been alone, she might have faltered and been overwhelmed. But she could not, would not, for Jill was beside her, and Jill had never done a proper shield spell yet.

Fortunately for them, Jill was pretty good at the basic stunning spell, and put it to good use by zapping any books that had circled around behind the shield. And so the girls inched forward through the forbidden section, in a whirlwind of paper and fangs.

“I think these books are angry at us!” said Sparrow. “I wonder why.”

“Think about it,” said Jill. “For once, think about – stupefy! – think about what someone else might be thinking.” She gestured to the bookshelves, which were oddly empty. “Look at this barren shelving. My mother told me this section used to be full. What do you think happened that – stupefy! – what do you think happened that would have taken these books away? Stupefy!”

“The aftermath of Voldemort?”

“Stupefy! Precisely. Cormac told me that his father in the Ministry library was in charge of adding a bunch of new forbidden texts to the restricted section there. That’s assuming that some titles weren’t destroyed outright. So maybe all of these forbidden books were whisked away to a section that was a hell of a lot more secure than this school, and the ones that were left were the ones that were just mean, not full of dangerous knowledge.”

“And they’re attacking us because we’re on their turf and they’re sad that they lost their friends?”

“Exactly!”

“But what about the books that are still on the shelf?”

“Maybe they’re also monster books. And they just haven’t gone after us yet.”

“We passed them, didn’t we? So why did they not –”

There was a sound, as of the rustling paper of many books.

“Can you make that shield a dome?” said Jill.

“I, uh – ”

The rustling was getting closer. “I need that boldness now, Sparrow. Come up with something fast.” Jill was firing off stunners as fast as she could but the press of books was beginning to overwhelm her.

“Talk to me,” said Sparrow.

“About what, exactly!”

“About why you followed me into Hufflepuff. You proved yourself as bold as I am, didn’t you? You were the only one besides me in our first year that wanted to touch the dragons. You jumped on a broom before anyone else did, and you did it from a second story balcony. You would have been perfect in Gryffindor. You would have been able to hang out with all your brothers and sisters every evening, and speak to them more often before they graduated. So why did you follow me?”

“How do you know I followed you?”

“Because you were so embarrassed when Jocasta said it. It must have hit a nerve.”

“Stupefy! Well, now you’re thinking about other people – stupefy! – so that’s a good start. And you’re right, and – stupefy! – Jocasta was right – stupefy! – and it was because of that shield charm you cast. Stupefy! The first one, remember?”

Sparrow had been standing in line with the rest of the first years, waiting for her turn with the hat. And a Fanged Frisbee had come whirling out of the crowd. Before anyone else could react, even the teachers, Sparrow had her wand out and had deflected the Frisbee.

It had been highly unusual, because beginning first years weren’t supposed to know shield charms yet, or much magic at all. They had purchased their spellbooks, of course, but nobody had expected them to READ the things, nor to practice anything in them before the start of the term, nor yet to perfect it.

“Alright, so did you think I was going to go into Ravenclaw?”

“I fully expected you to be sorted into that house, yes, or into Gryffindor. But you picked Hufflepuff. You PICKED a house. That doesn’t happen often, does it? People go where they’re placed by a wiser person. Or someone they think is wiser. Older, at the very least. And you didn’t. You made a choice. So I decided I would make one, too, and follow you. Because I…wanted to see what you would get up to.

“And when pranks came flying at us Hufflepuffs over the years, you managed to intercept half of them. Why did you bother? They weren’t even coming at you, but you saved people from fanged Frisbees, india-ink eggs, falling chandeliers, dung bombs…Why? Why save someone that isn’t you or your friends?”

“I don’t like to see people hurt,” said Sparrow. “That’s all.”

“Is it that simple?”

“No.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I want Blaise to hear the whole story too. I don’t want to tell it twice.”

The monster books on Sparrow’s side had gone. So had the books on Jill’s side. All that was left was a pile of tomes that lay stunned. “I think we’re safe now,” said Jill. “Let’s press forward.”

Sparrow looked around.

All the books on the shelves had gone.

There was a rustling of paper all around them.

And it was growing very close.

“What I’m gathering from your story,” said Sparrow, “is that you are interested in me. Is that correct?”

“Of course! We’re still friends, right?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if you still want to be friends. You abandoned me for weeks, and then ran away again. Perhaps, in the short amount of time we have, you’d be willing to explain why. I have an idea but I’d prefer to hear it from you.”

The rustling of paper was growing louder.

“I, uh –– ”

“It’s clear to me that you’re prone to feeling embarrassed but we’re running out of time here, so I’m going to take a wild guess and say that you have a crush on me, and that you’ve had it for a while. Am I right?”

Jill’s face reddened. “Damn it. Yes, I’ve been crushing on you for a couple years. ”

The rustling was nearly on top of them.

“I think I’ve been doing the same thing. I just had to admit it to myself. I had to realize I like you. I mean how exactly I like you. I mean – I mean maybe my idea here will work. If you would be so kind, kiss me.”

“What!”

Rustle, rustle.

“Oh, do you not want to?”

“I didn’t say that!”

Rustle, rustle.

“Then do it! We’ve got about three – ”

Jill planted a hard one on Sparrow’s lips. In the same moment, the books burst out of the stacks from every direction, fully intending to tear the two children to shreds. Sparrow, still locked in the kiss, pointed her wand in a random direction and said clearly within her mind, _Wingardium Leviosa_.

If Professor Budge’s theory was right, and sheer determination could make a shield spell as hard as iron, perhaps sheer elation could make someone as light as air. Or, in this case, everything around the caster.

About five seconds later, Jill finally released the kiss, and Sparrow opened her eyes.

Thousands of books hovered in mid-air around the two girls, having been halted in mid-leap. They snapped furiously, unable to escape the spell or move forward at all.

Nor would Jill yet let Sparrow out of her arms. “I have wished to keep you close,” she said, hugging Sparrow a bit more tightly. “I have wished to keep you close, and safe in my arms, for many years. Even after I came to understand that you hardly needed such protection.”

“And I have felt the same for you,” said Sparrow. “It was hard to say. Easy to demonstrate but hard to communicate. As it is, we’ve kept each other safe. So let’s keep doing that. And keep each other close. Will you run from me again?”

Jill let Sparrow out of her arms at last. “Never more than an arm’s length.” She gazed around at the floating books. “Goodness, this is an impressive spell. When did you learn to do this?”

“Just now,” said Sparrow. “I had a bit of help, from a very good friend.”


	6. Animal Transformations, Hmmmm?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone knows more about their craft than they're letting on.

The two girls awoke at the library table in the morning.

Having escaped the forbidden section intact, Jill had suggested that they go to sleep at the table by resting their heads on some open books, so as to pretend that they had fallen asleep in the library.

Yet when they awoke, the books had been moved into a stack next to them.

Even though there was nobody else in the library yet.

Sparrow and Jill rose, and checked the doors. They remained closed.

The librarian was nowhere to be seen.

“I really would like to get out of here,” said Sparrow. “I’ve been caught sneaking around after dark too often.”

“I thought you liked my alibi!” said Jill. “It’s perfect.”

“I thought it was perfect,” said Sparrow. “But think about it this way. We’re stuck in the library all night, right? We never sent an owl, never tried to call anyone for help, and I’m dead certain the administration knows there’s a monster in here every night, because the library doors can’t be opened after hours. So what are they going to think when we claim to have just ‘fallen asleep’ in the library? At the very least they’ll be suspicious.”

“You’re thinking of what other people are thinking,” said Jill. “I’m so proud.”

“I’m giving it a shot. Now, how are we going to get out of here?”

“Wait until the doors open?” said Jill. “And then duck out like nothing’s the matter?”

“Hide in the stacks and start studying,” said Sparrow, “and maybe people will think we just got in before they did. Come on. There’s a book I want to ask you about anyway.”

Sparrow led Jill to the history section. There were huge tomes and skinny tomes. The section on wizard-muggle relations was fairly substantial. “Here it is,” said Sparrow. “Late seventeenth century.” She hefted a weighty tome off the shelf and thumped it down on the table. “There’s only one big thing that happened in that decade.”

“Oh come on,” said Jill. “I thought you were off that subject for once. Half the reason I ditched Violet that one evening is because I didn’t want to hear you two talk about it.”

“Indeed,” said a voice from the end of the stack. “It is a touchy subject. And the librarian hears many whispers and rumors spoken within his walls. You are already spoken of frequently, Miss Jones, and not in the best of lights.”

There stood The Librarian.

He was a grey man, grey of hair and grey of face and grey of clothing. No one knew his name. No one had ever asked. To the students, he was simply the one who signed out their books, and who put the shelves back in order. Sparrow had heard much from Ravenclaws about consulting the library, but not one had ever mentioned consulting the Librarian. For all intents and purposes he was a background figure at the school.

“What’s your name?” said Sparrow.

The Librarian looked confused. “Name? Name. Erm. You know, I stopped asking myself after a while. I don’t leave the library, and nobody says much of anything to me. So, I stopped remembering what it was myself. Perhaps you could give me one?”

“You must pick for yourself,” said Sparrow.

The Librarian looked around at the shelves. He dragged a massive book off the shelf, opened it, and pointed to a section. “There. Timothy Treadpoor. You shall call me Tim.”

“Very well,” said Sparrow. “Tim it is.”

“Now, about this whole studying business,” said Tim. “You want to learn about the Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, hm?”

“I do,” said Sparrow. “And yet, if I were to ask Professor Binns, word would get back to Hagrid, and I would have a detention. So I thought to ask the books.”

“Books spill their secrets without hesitation,” said Tim. “As might I.”

“Oh no you won’t,” said Jill. “You know we were here last night. We know what you are. If you leave us alone we’ll leave you alone. Deal?”

Tim was visibly shaken.

“That’s quite harsh,” said Sparrow. “I have a better idea. Mr. Treadpoor, do you enjoy being a werewolf?”

“I…erm. What’s it to you?”

“What if we could help you?” said Sparrow.

“How?”

“Figuring out how to cure your lycanthropy.”

Tim stared in confusion.

“And then you help us learn about the statute,” said Sparrow. “Deal?”

“I cannot make a deal for something impossible,” said Tim. “I am sorry. At the very least, I will keep your secret if you will keep mine. Just don’t let me catch you studying that subject in here again.”

Sparrow slammed the book shut. “Fine,” she said. “Fine. Fine. Nobody wants to help me. But for God’s sake, let me help you. You’ve been shut up here for years because people are scared of you. At least let me try to get you out of that mess.”

Tim sighed. “I really don’t think there’s anything you can do.”

“We’re Wizards,” said Sparrow. “The question is what we CAN’T do.”

“We can’t study the Statute of Magical Secrecy,” said Jill.

“I have an idea of where we can,” said Sparrow. “But we have to figure out how to get there.”

…

“Am I hearing you right?” said Cormac, in potions class. “You want to find a CURE for Lycanthropy?”

“I can goddamn well try,” said Sparrow, as she was grinding beetle wings in a mortar. “There’s got to be something.”

“There certainly is,” said Professor Slughorn. “Alas, it has not worked for me, all these years. I have tried so many times and it just never went right.”

Professor Slughorn was an old man, nearly as old as McGonnogal. He had been more mobile, once, but these days he tended to levitate himself around on a chair. Accordingly the spaces between the rows in the potions classroom were wide. It made it easier to whisper about sensitive topics without being overheard, at least by other students. The professor, though, had a habit of managing to come around just when you were getting to the good part.

“Remind me what this method is,” said Sparrow.

“It is a particular potion,” said Slughorn, “that, when drunk before the full moon, will reduce one’s lycanthropy to the state of a regular wolf, as opposed to a vicious werewolf.”

“And if you forget to drink it?”

“Ah, well,” said Slughorn. “It is a terrible thing indeed to be a forgetful werewolf.”

“Then the potion isn’t good enough,” said Sparrow. “Not at all. I need something that only has to work once.”

“Are you absolutely mad?” said Slughorn. “There’s no permanent cure for Lycanthropy.”

“That’s what you think,” said Sparrow. “How many people have tried to find one?”

“Well, I, er…I hardly know what they get up to at the Ministry, so I can’t say, can I? But nobody likes werewolves anyway, do they? It’s a surprise anyone bothered to come up with anything for them at all. Why don’t you concentrate on your potion of hiccup-curing and get back to work, Miss Jones.”

The class passed in its usual dullness. Sparrow had not appreciated potions last year, and her opinion this year had not changed. There just didn’t seem to be much to them, not the way Slughorn was teaching. Potions for curing hiccups, potions for staying warm in the cold, potions for staying cold in the warm, all rather pedestrian stuff so far. Sparrow wondered if they were going to get into anything really interesting, or if that was for levels about fourth year. Surely the possibilities were endless? This was magic, after all. Nobody had found the boundaries, as far as she knew. Nor did anyone seem to know how to find them. They just did the things that worked, and they worked, and that was that.

And even in the library, Sparrow hadn’t been able to find anything in the way of theory. Just books of spells, history, law, poetry, and bestiaries. There was a section on theory. But it was empty.

Professor Budge had mentioned a Department of Mysteries. Perhaps they knew what was up. Or at least they knew how to find out. Or at least they had an idea. Maybe. At least they were given the job of trying. Sparrow decided to file that information away for later use. It wouldn’t do to go skipping off to the Ministry when she had classes to attend.

Her cauldron began to bubble and fizz. Sparrow realized that she had been grinding the beetle wings far too long, and the mixture was overboiling. She hastily dumped the ground beetle wings in.

The resulting explosion tossed her back into someone else’s cauldron, which spilled hot potion all over them, followed by a terrified scream that quickly became a snarl, as the poor student was transformed into a large fox. Goodness, who had she been sitting in front of again? Tall, dreadlocks, wait, could it be –

“Miranda McClivert!” roared Professor Slughorn, now out of his chair and glowering at the cowering fox. “Making unsanctioned potions in the middle of my classroom which had bugger-all to do with the lesson! What on earth is the matter with you?”

“Could have been an accident,” said Sparrow. “You know how it is with potions, professor, you let a bit of the beetle powder boil too long and – ”

“There’s not a single ingredient in the hiccup potion that has anything to do with transfiguration!” said Slughorn. “Also, twenty points from Gryffindor for your negligence.”

“Hufflepuff,” said Sparrow. “Twenty points from Hufflepuff.”

“Don’t tell him!” whispered Cormac.

“I can’t imagine how this even happened,” said Englebert Yaxley, a miniscule 4th-year Ravenclaw. “I’ve been sitting right next to her the entire time and she hasn’t been using any ingredients different than me –”

Slughorn glared at Yaxley.

“ – and I’ve been making the hiccupping potion like I'm supposed to, and mine has turned out perfectly fine. But, uh. Her potion sure smells different than mine. Wonder how that happened.”

Slughorn sniffed the air. “If I am not mistaken,” he said, “that’s minced mandrake leaves. Ha! Ha! Well now, this is interesting, Miss McClivert. You toss in one extra ingredient and that’s all it takes, eh? Didn’t think you knew your potions as well as _that_.”

The fox peeked its head out from under the desk.

“Let’s say thirty points from Gryfindor,” said Slughorn, “and I will speak to you later.”

So potions could clearly clearly change a person’s shape. Maybe this was a means of getting past Filch. If she could take a form small enough, why then, how would he even notice her?

…

Slughorn hadn’t taken much effort to change Miranda back, fortunately, and she was able to walk out of the classroom with everyone else. But she had expressed no desire to speak with anyone, and had rushed off before Sparrow could catch her.

Sparrow spent much of the next day, a Saturday, looking through what library books she could find for details of shape-changing potions. Much of it was something called Polyjuice. Nasty stuff, and rather complicated. McClivert had been working with simple ingredients on a short time frame and only added a single extra ingredient, as far as Sparrow could see. No, there was nothing in the low-level potion books regarding animal transformations.

“Interested in potions now,” said Tim the Librarian, “as if I don’t know what you’re up to.”

“I’ll get to your potion eventually. I’m just pursuing a related lead right now.”

Tim put his hands on his hips. “My potion? What do you mean, my potion? It was your idea. I have no interest in it.”

“Oh come now,” said Sparrow. “Of course you do. Who would want to be a werewolf?”

“Fenrir Greyback and his ilk. Nasty fellows. But that’s beside the point! I take advantage of my malady, Miss Jones. It gives me an excuse to stay shut up in here, where things are relatively quiet and peaceful, and I am master of this domain. If I went out into the castle, why, I could get lost.”

“I am resolved to help you,” said Sparrow, “whether you like it or not.”

“You are impossible,” said Tim, and he departed.

…

In the mid-evening after supper, Sparrow stood at the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“A Hufflepuff,” said the Fat lady. “Are you waiting for a friend?”

“I was hoping you could tell me if someone was in,” said Sparrow. “Miranda McClivert.”

“Quite a strange request, child. I have no knowledge of what occurs on the other side of me, alas. The most I can do is relay a message to this person, when they happen to meet me again. What would you have them know?”

“To meet me on the walkway between the astronomy tower and the dragon tower at noon on Sunday.”

“If…that is what you wish.”

…

That night Sparrow stole out of the Hufflepuff common room and cast an invisibility charm upon herself. Then she made her way to the upper corridor leading towards the dragon tower.

Filch spotted her within three seconds.

“Is that supposed to be an invisibility charm?” said the ghost. “You look like a heat mirage walking along the corridor. And I can see your footprints in the dust. Terrible form, girl. Fifty points from Hufflepuff.”

“Is it possible for points to go negative?”

“No…I don’t think so.”

“Then I only have so much to lose.”

…

In the days leading up to the Sunday that Sparrow hoped to meet Miranda, Jill was bit more kissy and a bit more handsy with Sparrow than normal.

“I should have thought you would want to get right to the snogging,” said Sparrow, as the two sat on a love seat in the Hufflepuff common room, hands intertwined. “Are you holding back?”

“Maybe I’m not as lusty as you, have you ever thought of that? Maybe I want my love to be as pure as the driven snow.”

“Oh, well. Is that why you ran away from me? Didn’t want to get all dirty?”

“No.”

“Why, then?”

“It’s things I still don’t want to talk to you about yet. I’m sorry. It’s a little complicated.” She stood and turned to face Sparrow, still holding her hand. “You know I get embarrassed about things easily. Can you wait another week, and then I’ll tell you?”

“All this waiting for everyone! Fine. I waited weeks for you, I can wait again.”

“Speaking of that. How did you guess I had a crush on you anyway?”

“How could I not? It’s a common Romance trope, you know, to run away instead of confessing your feelings for someone. Also common in real life. I had that idea, and Jocasta gave some hints that made me more certain. But I wasn’t going to ask. I figured it was your decision to tell me, not mine.” She stood, turned back to Jill, and took the girl’s other hand in hers. “I’m sorry about putting you in a situation where we were pressed for time.”

Jill frowned in confusion. “I thought I put you in that situation.”

“Surely it was my fault, for suggesting we enter the Forbidden Section.”

“Maybe. But, if either of us had been the one to instigate it, do you think the other would have even considered staying behind?”

“Definitely not.”

“Well then.” Jill rose, and gave Sparrow a peck on the cheek. “Perhaps we shall follow each other to the ends of the earth. Not even perhaps. I would follow you anyway. You get into so much trouble, you know.” She gave Sparrow another peck. “You could get yourself into a real mess, someday, and then I must be there for you once more.”

“I certainly would not mind.”


	7. The Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jocasta Carrow is either very stupid or very brave. Or both. Remind me why she didn't go into Gryffindor?

Noon on Sunday. Jill and Sparrow stepped out into the mist, on the walkway between the Astronomy and Dragon towers. Miranda McClivert was not there.

However, Jocasta was on the walkway, sitting up on the wall with her back to the grim drear, and looking out across the walkway at the grim drear on the other side. She had an unfocused look until she noticed the other two girls had arrived.

Upon spotting her, Jill made a hasty apology, and departed. Jocasta raised an eyebrow. Sparrow shrugged, and said, “She’ll be back for me eventually, I suppose, as always. Now, I fully expected to meet Miranda here. Instead I meet one of my potential lovers. How fare you, my _love_?”

“Shut up,” said Jocasta.

“I’ve felt a trifle neglected in these last few weeks,” said Sparrow. “Not a single prank from you. You’re completely off your game. What has happened?”

“Maybe I got bored.”

“Surely Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes has an endless supply of tricks? Unless you’ve purchased the entire store by now? Oh, but wait! You only have a limited supply here at school. You must have used them all up! My dear, you shall have to start devising your own pranks, instead of buying them from a shop.”

Jocasta gritted her teeth. “That’s not it at all.”

“Well what then? Presumably you are aware of why Miss McClivert decided not to show up?”

“I know quite a bit of gossip at this school,” said Jocasta. “And I can tell you that she takes all blame for what happened. But she doesn’t really wish to discuss the matter with someone who has a reputation for bowling right through the wishes of other people.”

“Uh -- ”

“In any case I’m not here to speak for her. I’m here to speak for me. Because I thought -- ” Jocasta tilted her head slightly, placed a finger on her cheek, and cast her gaze upward, as if lost in thought. “ -- Oh, why on earth would the high and mighty Sparrow Jones want to talk to Miranda McClivert? It can’t possibly be to _apologize_. Sparrow never does _that_. And it can’t be to gaze in rapture at Miranda’s mighty shoulders. Sparrow is too _high-minded_ for _that_.”

Sparrow put her hands behind her back and adopted a mocking sheepish pose. “Maybe I’m not all that high minded after all.”

“Well.” Jocasta lowered herself down from the rampart. “It must be because Miranda has knowledge that you want.” She sashayed over to Sparrow. “And the only specialized knowledge that _Miranda_ has that _you_ know about is the business with the shape-changing potion. Yes?”

“Um – ”

“Yes. Now, why on earth would Sparrow Jones want to know about shape-changing? Perhaps she wants to become like her namesake? I mean _more_ like her namesake? Or perhaps she wishes to learn how to skulk after all? Or perhaps is simply bored, and wishes to impose a challenge. Or – ” Jocasta grinned. “Some incredibly roundabout way of achieving your wild fancies about the Statute of Secrecy. Who knows? But it is _such_ a tricky business with those potions, they taste _terrible._ And you have to keep making them. So, I have an offer.” Jocasta came close.

“Which is?”

Jocasta stepped even closer, and clasped her hands in front of her. “Let me teach you how to become an Animagus.”

There was a long pause as Sparrow took in this concept. Only the wind spoke, as it set the highest flagpole clanking. Only the wind spoke aloud – Sparrow fancied that Jocasta’s eyes spoke volumes in silence, as Sparrow held her gaze.

“Does this mean we’re not adversaries any more?”

Jocasta snorted and rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say _that._ ”

“Well,” said Sparrow, “You really should have asked me this at dinner. You could have had me spit out my drink in surprise. Missed a good opportunity there, my dear Miss Carrow.”

“Is the concept all that surprising? I know you want power.” Jocasta wiggled her eyebrows. “That’s why you seek knowledge, yes? You’re always looking through the spellbooks for new things, even though you can’t cast half of them to save your life. I can offer you power that is…more reliable.”

“Oh really,” said Sparrow, as she crossed her arms. “And WHY do you think I seek power, hmmmmmm?”

“To…be more powerful than other people?” Jocasta frowned. “I thought that was the whole point.”

“No no,” said Sparrow. “Keep going, there’s more to it. What do armies always say about themselves?”

“I don’t – ”

“That they’re defending their country. Well, maybe I’m like that. I want to be able to defend my friends and my people. A shield isn’t cutting it.”

“They tend to not cut things,” said Jocasta. 

“And this…Animagus business.” Sparrow waved a hand as if brushing away a fly. “Notwithstanding that it could get me in more trouble than I’ve ever been in, _ever_ , it feels like a more selfish power. A snooping power. If I thought snooping would be useful I might consider it, but it doesn’t seem to be what I need.”

“Oh really,” said Jocasta. “Who’s the one trying to get past Argus Filch?”

“How did you -- goddamit, you really are a fly on the wall. You’re literally a fly on the wall. How do you avoid getting smashed? How do you avoid spiders?”

Jocasta shrugged. “Luck, I suppose.”

“Can’t you pick a different form? Something safer?”

“Nope.” Jocasta shook her head. “Animagus form is fixed by personality. I don’t make the rules.”

“Someday I’m going to figure out how to break those rules,” said Sparrow.

“Spoken like a true Slytherin.”

“So why are you asking me about all this?” said Sparrow. “Why not only reveal to me that you’re a – hang on. Are you even registered?”

“That’s a long story.”

“Ok.” Sparrow crossed her arms. “Assuming you’re not registered, why not only reveal to me your secret, but ask me to join you? What’s your angle?”

“Think of it this way,” said Jocasta. “I know that you’re asking about the Statute of Secrecy. Dangerous business, to go poking at that rule. You’re not very discreet about it. You could get in trouble if word gets beyond these walls. And I happen to have a very dangerous secret of my own. So, I’m giving it to you as a gesture of goodwill. As a kind of…hostage for good behavior.”

Sparrow raised an eyebrow.

“Because I want you to trust me,” said Jocasta. “And considering what I’ve been to you for three years…and what I did with the ink bottle…I feel like earning your trust would require a high price. So, you now have a secret of mine. A big secret. A very big secret.”

Sparrow shook her head as if to clear it of clutter. “You’re offering me blackmail against you?”

“That would imply an unequal relationship. This is mutual. If I try to destroy you, you could destroy me.”

“Mutually assured destruction,” said Sparrow. “There’s ways that can go wrong, if one party turns out to be suicidal. Such as, for example, trying to secretly become an animagus at _fourteen years old_? What on earth were you thinking? You could have been disfigured for life.”

Jocasta looked surprised. “You care about me.”

“I care about everyone’s safety. If I ever manage to get past Filch again and meet Blaise, maybe you’ll hear why. But answer the damn question. Why the HELL do you want ME to become an UNREGISTERED ANIMAGUS?”

“Son of a troll, Sparrow, keep your voice down. Look.” She took Sparrow’s hands in hers. “I didn’t ask for this Animagus business. My father told me I had to uphold the family legacy, or else he’d disinherit me. He shepherded me through the process but he still didn’t ask if I wanted it. And now I’ve got this great secret that I can’t tell anyone, that I can’t ask anyone questions about, that I can’t commiserate with people about, because letting that secret out to the world would be my end. They’d toss me into Azkaban and I would go mad.”

“There’s a guy named Black who supposedly survived the Dementors because he could turn into a dog. If you can turn into a fly the place couldn’t possibly hold you, could it? You could just zip right out of there.”

“Look, I just I need to be able to talk to someone about this whole animagus business. That’s all I’m really asking for here. Who better than you?”

“Literally anyone? I’m the most judgmental person in the school.”

“And how much are you involved in spreading gossip?”

“I prefer not to get involved with such a sordid and slanderous business. I hear but do not repeat.”

“Then there you have it, eh? As long as my secret is safe with you, I don’t care how judgy you are. I don’t care how judgy anyone around here is. You know what people say about me, don’t you? That I’m – ”

“A tricky little bitch who needs to get smacked more often. Yes, I have heard.”

“And I really don’t care what they say.” Jocasta spun away from Sparrow and skipped over to the ramparts. “I care nothing for such pedestrian fools, who would grow up to be lazy and cynical plonkers, doing little more than what they were told, trying to hold me down when I wished to do great things.” She leapt up onto the ramparts and balanced there on tiptoes. “Ha! They are nothing to me.”

Sparrow moved to stand where she might catch Jocasta before the girl fell. “Are you something to them? To anyone?”

“Perhaps to Jill, my dueling partner of many years. Perhaps to you. Perhaps to Miranda, though such thoughts are fancies. My goodness, Miranda strikes quite a handsome figure, does she not? Gives me the vapors. I have never dared to put a prank in her way.”

“And have you ever spoken to her?”

“Oh, no! I hardly know her! She is a Gryfindor, you realize. I daresay she would not dare speak to me.”

Sparrow frowned. “I thought Miranda danced with everyone at the Halloween Ball.”

“She did! But she didn’t say anything when we danced, and I didn’t say anything either.”

Sparrow grinned. “Swept off your feet, eh?”

“Literally and figuratively.” Jocasta leapt down from the ramparts. “A little frustrating, really. I wish I could have said something.”

“I really think you ought to talk to that girl.”

“Oh!” Jocasta put her hand up to her forehead and did a mocking faint. “But she is so _dashing!_ ”

“About business, I mean. Shape-changing stuff. She clearly has enough interest in that subject to risk experimenting with it in class. Too much interest, really. If you ask her about it then _she_ might swoon over _you._ Or at least be willing to talk to you. I know she’d be a sympathetic ear to your secret, far more than me.”

Jocasta crossed her arms. “I can’t risk telling her about that.”

“Well, you’re asking me to risk a lot here. Not for much gain on my part. Nor yours, really. We can talk about stuff without, you know, making me go through an incredibly dangerous and difficult and illegal process.”

“I just…I wanted to offer you the possibility, if you would have it. I thought of it as a gift.”

“Oh, _do_ you fancy me?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Shut up!”

“Fine.” Sparrow turned towards the grim rain-soaked land. “If you even wanted to date me, I’d have to ask Jill about letting you in on our thing.”

“You’re dating – well, maybe that’s not a surprise, but I am a trifle disappointed.”

“Ah ha!” Sparrow spun around. “I knew it!”

“Not like that!” said Jocasta. “It’s because…because Jill might be distracted in dueling, now, especially if you show up. She’s a good dueling partner. Taught me a lot. And now she’s gonna be all lovey-dovey and stuff so she’d be distracted whenever you walk in. I mean more than usual. Right?”

“Give her more credit,” said Sparrow. “She’s not going overboard with the romance even though she’s dating me.”

“Oh, well. That’s because she’s dating you.”

“How do you mean?”

“Miss high-and-mighty doesn’t hold with anything so _sordid_ as taking someone to bed, now does she? I’m sure Jill is holding back because she knows you have strict limits.”

“Oh come on. I’m not that much of a prude. I’m just…ambitious. Like you. You know?” Sparrow shrugged. “Easily distracted by my ideals.”

Jocasta winked. “That’s what I like about you, your ambition.”

“But, getting back to the issue of being an Animagus. My relationship with Jill could make things more complicated. Because, if I’m dating her, she’s gonna find out about this business eventually. And she will want in. Because she’s Jillian Patil, and she’s – ”

“Never backed down from a challenge,” said Jocasta. “That’s what I like about her. Alright. Does this mean you’re interested or not?”

“I’ll think about it. Doesn’t the process involve the full moon? We’re not going to get another clear full moon until March at least. In the meantime, feel free to talk to me about stuff.”

“I would consider it a pleasure,” said Jocasta.

Sparrow started to leave the walkway, but as she was nearing the door she turned back and said, “You know, I’m pretty sure that you fancy me.”

“How do you figure?”

“A Slytherin not only talks to a muggleborn, she dances with her, and then entrusts her with this much? Old Salazar is rolling in his grave.”

“Never mind,” said Jocasta. There was a small thump of air as she became a fly, and she zipped away.


	8. Wand lore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isn't it so annoying when you demand that two people fight and they just shake hands?

“I heard a rumor that you fancied Jocasta Carrow,” said Violet.

It was mid-November, still at the beginning of the rainy season. There were a few sunny days left. Sparrow was sitting near Violet in the library. They were both working on History of Magic essays. Sparrow had elected to work with an ink bottle and quill this time, partly because she didn’t care much for this essay’s topic, partly because she wanted to get over her aversion to ink bottles. Violet went with her usual cheap ballpoint.

“Okay,” said Sparrow, “I’ve heard of rumors growing wild in the retelling, but I’ve never heard of them getting flipped backwards. It’s Jocasta that fancies me.”

“Good for you then.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Well,” said Violet, “your rumor self is cheating on my rumor self, and on Jillian Patil, according to what I hear. Quite the scandal. I bet Jill is devastated. You should be ashamed.”

“Let’s say there’s a rumor that I’m ashamed.”

“Fair enough.” Violet glanced left and right. “I also heard that you wanted to…cure lycanthropy?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“I mean,” said Violet, “you wanted to actually look for a cure instead of bemoaning an intractable problem.”

“Correct. But I’ve kind of got that idea shelved right now. If I can’t make a potion without seeing it explode then I probably shouldn’t be making experimental stuff for anyone.”

“That depends on how much you like your clients.”

“Please!” said Sparrow, placing her palm on her collarbone in a pose of genteel offense, and bringing a dripping quill with it. “I am not a con artist. I am all above board.”

“Scourgify.” Violet flicked her wand at Sparrow’s shirt to clean off the ink. “Including being above-board about ending the Statute of Secrecy?”

“I am discreetly above-board. Now, as I said, the Lycanthropy concept is currently shelved because I’m not a complete idiot. And I wanted to ask the McClivert girl about her recipe for a shape-changing potion first anyway. But ah, well. I can’t find good information about either topic in this library.”

“Not in the regular section, at least.”

Sparrow buried her face in her essay. “I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about.”

“Fine,” said Violet. “There’s probably good material in this library anyway, and you’ve passed by it a dozen times because you don’t know how to do your research properly. Have you asked the librarian for help?”

Sparrow glanced left and right. “I have the feeling that he’s not going to help me look for this particular info. Let’s just say he’s sensitive about that topic.”

Violet raised her eyebrow. “If you’re trying to not imply that he’s a Werewolf – ”

“Dammit.”

“You can’t get anything past a Ravenclaw, you know.” Violet grinned.

“Yeah, yeah, hype up your house. Anyway, how do I research properly?”

Violet stood and motioned Sparrow to follow. She barely gave the girl time to roll up her essay as she moved to the end of the row.

Violet led Sparrow to a section that she had never seen before. A lot of large tomes with the same binding. It looked perfectly boring.

“This is the reference section,” said Violet. “This is where you look for bibliographic references and cross-references.”

“Bibliowhat?”

“Did nobody teach you how to do your own research?”

“That’s never really come up in any of my classes. We’re still working out of the textbooks.”

“So all this time,” said Violet, “you’re in the library and you’re not taking full advantage of it? I thought you were studious. You were just looking for the cool stuff, weren’t you?”

“All I look for is new spells.”

“Of course. Because you want power.”

“I want to protect my friends and my fellows.”

“So I am told,” said Violet. “Protect them from what, though? We haven’t had a real dark wizard since the Voldemort War. Potter’s Army killed half of them and the rest haven’t been seen since.”

“That’s…not exactly something I want to talk about. It’s a long story. If you can help me sneak past Filch and reach Blaise on a moonlit night, you may hear it.”

Violet crossed her arms. “If you’re not going to tell anyone what you’re protecting them from, they can’t help you or themselves.”

Sparrow shook her head. “Bad memories! Leave it be for now. I haven’t seen anything nasty hanging around the castle so it’s not like it’s an immediate problem.” She dragged a giant tome off the shelf. “Cross reference, hm, alright. Shall we get to it?”

…

It turned out to be the first time in a while that Sparrow’s time in the library could be called truly productive. She managed to follow references all the way to a tome of experimental potion-crafting. By Hermione Granger, of all people. Did she know anything about potions? That wasn’t part of the legend of the Second Wizarding War. But, as the introduction explained, the tome itself was produced by copying all the liner notes of the potions textbook of someone named “Severus Snape.”

Apparently this particular tome was far more effective than the regular potions textbook could ever be. Sparrow wondered why it hadn’t been famous enough for her to know about already. Maybe the regular textbook writers didn’t appreciate a young student who outdid them, nor yet a famous witch who tended to outdo everyone.

Unfortunately the book still didn’t have anything related to lycanthropy. Mostly what it had was improvements on the basics. But, it was a demonstration that experimenting with potions was possible and productive. Sparrow wondered how many times this Severus Snape had blown up his cauldron.

This was Volume One. There was supposed to be a Volume Two with all the bibliographic references. But it was not on the shelf. In fact there was an obvious hole where it must have been, perhaps no more than a day ago. Someone had taken that volume, and that volume alone.

Someone else was trying to make advanced potions. Perhaps. But why take the second volume with all the references, and not the first volume with the actual information? Why not take them both together? The question was, did this person want to gain knowledge for themselves, or keep it from someone else?

Sparrow had the feeling that Tim the Librarian wasn’t going to give her any answers, if he had the slightest hint that she was looking for information about lycanthropy or potions.

She resolved to wait, and see if the book returned to the shelf. Three weeks. That was a good time to wait for the book to come back.

…

In the ensuing weeks while she waited, she attempted every trick she could think of to get past Filch. She attempted to improve her invisibility charm, which didn’t get past his searching eyes. She attempted to use a shrinking potion and creep through the shadows, but Filch spotted her in a patch of moonlight. She tried making a potion that would turn her into a puff of air, but all it did was send her to the hospital wing for three days. She tried riding a broom out the Hufflepuff window and up to the tower, but nobody would lend her one, because she was a terrible flyer. She tried conjuring up an illusion to distract him. He floated right through it. She tried hiding in the astronomy tower until after dark. Filch checked it thoroughly.

The idea of becoming an animagus for the sake of getting past Filch began to look more appealing. A petty impetus for a noble goal, perhaps, but it was an impetus. Besdides which, if she got caught trying to pass him again he was going to restart the fifty-point deductions.

It was a dreary Monday morning in November, getting closer to December. Sparrow stood at the front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class and, as ever, completely failed to produce an effective Stunning Charm. Professor Budge exclaimed that he had never seen anything like it. It was only when Sparrow had the opportunity to look in Jill’s direction and see her giving the thumbs-up sign that she even managed to get anything out of her wand at all.

After class, Professor Budge asked Sparrow to stay.

“Are you going to tell me that I shouldn’t take your class?” said Sparrow.

“My dear Miss Jones.” Professor Budge chuckled. “Think about your performance over three years. You’ve managed to master every defensive spell I’ve taught you, and quite a few that I haven’t. If it came to a fight you would be a wall the very world could not break. Yet you’ve never once managed to cast a proper offensive spell. Do you even want to?”

“No. No, I don’t want to hurt anyone, at all.”

“Yet we are speaking of a defense against the Dark Arts, child. These are, or were, or will be, very nasty people. What if they decide not to attack your wall at all? What if they go after someone else?”

“I’ll just have to make my wall bigger.”

“You can’t put a wall around the entire world,” said Budge. “Nor would anyone wish you to. It would be quite annoying for people to discover that they couldn’t go down to the candy shop because there was a glowing yellow wall at the end of the lane. No, my dear, sometimes you do have to take action. Sometimes, yes, you do have to hurt someone, in order to save someone else.”

“But hurting people is wrong,” said Sparrow. “If we do it, how are we any different?”

“You are fourteen years old, child, and to you the world looks very simple and straightforward. But as you grow older, you will learn that some moral situations are complex, and you cannot always hold to your highest principles. Sometimes your goals are more important than your ideals about methods. You, of all the people I have known, are most desperate to defend the innocent. Set that as a goal, above even a pledge to do no harm. Do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“Now, let me see your wand.”

Sparrow produced her wand. It was a long one, nearly twelve inches, made of hornbeam. She turned it around and held the wand by the end instead of the handle, and held it out to her Professor.

But she did not let it go.

“I meant,” said Professor Budge, “may I please hold your wand.”

Sparrow shook her head. “This is the most I can offer,” she said. “Sorry. Long story.”

“Very well,” said Budge, “I can examine it well enough from this vantage anyway. Now let me see. Hornbeam, yes? A highly passionate wandwood. Hornbeam wands will hew closely to the principles and style of their owners, almost from the moment of meeting. Tell me, what is this wand’s core?”

“Unicorn hair.”

“Ah yes. The core least suited for dark magic. Combine that with the Hornbeam, and I daresay this wand would hit you in the nose if you tried to cast a nasty curse. If you tried to cast Cruciartus it would probably explode. What did Ollivander tell you, when this wand selected you?

Sparrow thought back to the shop in Diagon Alley. Ollivander had tested a fair few wands with her. Applewood, a rare kind, for being suited to high ideals. Walnut, for those with the talent for magical innovation. Yet it was the hornbeam, the wood of those with great passion and singular vision, that had been the most lively in Sparrow’s hand.

“He warned me,” said Sparrow. “He said that if I had strong principles, the wand would take them to heart, and it would be harder to convince the wand to ignore them than it would be to convince me. He said I ought to be careful about which principles to follow doggedly.”

“And you have chosen the principle of defense, above all others.”

Well. That one had come up shortly after the wand had chosen her. Before the wand itself had chosen her, what Sparrow had been thinking was that everyone ought to see a dragon.

She decided to keep that to herself for now.

“I chose defense, yes. I can’t even imagine smacking someone in the face with my bare hands, much less using a wand.”

“There is such a thing as offensive defense,” said Budge. “Remember that. I want you to practice the basic stunning spell on your own. I expect you to perform it within two weeks.”

“But – ”

“Please, Sparrow. Stupefy is the easiest offensive spell to cast, and one of the least dangerous. I need to know that you can at least cast that, before I can begin to believe you’re ready for the world beyond these walls.”

Sparrow left the classroom feeling like she’d been chastised, even though she knew Budge hadn’t meant to.

…

Among the extensive grounds at Hogwarts there were many open walkways and covered walkways. Normally they stayed put, although, on occasion, the walkway would shift its endpoint in full view of the students, as if to mock them for thinking they had a chance of getting to class on time. Even the walkway to the Dragon Tower would, on occasion, detach and move all the way around to the Ravenclaw tower.

This particular one, crossing a narrow chasm to connect a disused tower to a little-used courtyard, occasionally shifted itself to become a staircase going down the side of the chasm. Violet had taken careful note of its timing, and deduced that it became a staircase every eight days, for the space of twelve hours. The trick was that those twelve hours could begin any time on the day of shifting. If you were at the bottom of the chasm, and the staircase left you, you’d better hope you had a broom, or it was going to be a long walk to get back into the castle.

Currently it was in staircase mode. It was also the rainy season. Which meant that the chasm was full of flowing water. Not exactly a safe place to step into unless you were a mermaid. Perhaps even if you were a mermaid.

Sparrow, Cormac, and Jill had hoped to reach the disused tower for a little more privacy. They had forgotten what day it was.

“Well how was I supposed to know?” said Cormac over the pounding rain. “Violet didn’t tell me what day it shifted last week.”

“Never mind,” said Sparrow. “Let’s just get practicing.”

Jill had suggested the disused courtyard for the sake of Sparrow. She herself would not have raised much fuss if she’d been practicing her shield charm in the Hufflepuff common room, but for Sparrow, firing off a stunner might have caused a few problems. They tended to ricochet, as Jill had learned the first time she cast one. It had not been in a safe place such as a charms class, but in the very great hall where Sparrow had first demonstrated her shield spell to a surprised crowd. Jill had seen the Fanged Frisbee, attempted to stun it out of the air, missed, and bounced her spell off the wall back at the crowd. Thus Jill’s introduction to the school was someone as bold as Sparrow, but dangerous.

This evening, then, the goal was for Jill to perfect her shield spell, and Sparrow to perfect her stunning charm.

“Tell you what,” said Jill. “I’ll try to cast a shield while you try to cast a stunner at me. We’ll see who manages it first, alright?”

Sparrow drew her wand.

“Hang on a minute,” said Cormac. “Shouldn’t you perfect the spell before you cast it at each other?”

“It’s perfectly fine,” said Sparrow. “It’s not like I can do it anyway.”

“I have faith in you,” said Jill. She kissed Sparrow on the cheek.

“Dammit,” said Sparrow. “Now it will work after all. Alright, we’ll see how this goes.”

It did not go. Sparrow tried, and tried, yet nothing more than a little mote of red light came from her wand. Likewise Jill, no matter how hard she waved her wand, no matter how loudly she shouted “protego”, could not produce a wall of yellow light.

“Maybe I’m just not in the mood for it,” said Sparrow. “Professor Budge said there was an emotional component for spellcasting. Then again, I’m never in the mood for it. I’m not sure how I can be. He told me there were times when I would need to hurt people in order to save others, but…what if I can’t cast an offensive spell until that moment comes? I’d have no practice at all.”

“I don’t understand why you always want to play defense,” said Jill. She flicked her wand again. Still nothing. “It means you’re always ceding the initiative. Unless your defense is perfect – ”

“It is,” said Sparrow.

“No it isn’t.” She flicked her wand again. Still nothing. “Three times in your life, you faltered. Three times your shield was broken. If an enemy can make you falter, then they can get past your supposedly mighty defense, like water through a tiny crack in a dam. You have to learn how to attack.”

“I don’t want to,” said Sparrow. “There’s got to be another way.”

“There is none,” said Jill. “There is attack and there is defense, and you’re missing half.”

“So are you,” said Cormac. “I’ve never seen you cast an effective spell of defense, no matter what it is. Shields and counterspells alike, you never bother. That only works if your assault is relentless. And you have to take the initiative, instead of waiting for your opponent to make the first move.”

“Exactly,” said Jill. “If I can get in the first blow hard enough there doesn’t have to be a second.”

“And what if you can’t? What if your attack does nothing? Do you then retreat? How do you retreat without a good defense?”

“Turn into a spider and hide,” said Jill. “Or something.”

“You don’t want to cast defensive spells,” said Cormac. “Can I see your wand?”

Jill hesitated for a few seconds, glancing at Cormac as if he were asking her to spill a mighty secret. Then she relented, setting her mouth into a grim line and handing the wand over.

Cormac studied the wand intently. “Hornbeam. Hm. The kind of wood that follows its owner’s principles to the letter. And the core?”

“Unicorn tail hair.”

“Least susceptible to the dark arts,” said Cormac. “So you’re strongly committed to an offense, yet there are some spells where you won’t go. Length, I’d say fourteen inches – ”

“Hang on a minute,” said Sparrow. “I’ve got a hornbeam with unicorn hair. Did you grab my wand by mistake, Jill? Wait, no. It’s in my pocket here.”

“Most unusual,” said Cormac. “Ollivander tries to vary his wood and wand cores in order to present the greatest range of possibilities to first-time wizards. Why on earth would he make two wands of precisely the same type?”

“Maybe he always does,” said Sparrow. “Like if he needs to have a few of each type on hand, just in case there’s high demand.”

Cormac was stroking his chin. “Possible,” he said. “Although that’s a muggle way of doing things, right? Supply and demand, market forces. But we’re Wizards, and there’s only so many of us. Always few. We don’t do market forces. The Ollivander family is pureblood through-and-through, so I doubt that old Garrick would be thinking of supply and demand at all.”

“Just in case then,” said Jill. “On the rare chance that he’d meet two wizards on the same day with the same…affinity?”

“Personality,” said Cormac. “But you two are hardly the same. One desperate to protect and defend, the other eager to strike down foes – ”

“Same goal different methods,” said Jill. “And we’re both stubborn when it comes to certain topics.” She gave Sparrow a knowing look. “Pig-headed, even.”

“Oink,” said Sparrow.

“So I don’t find it a big surprise that we’d wind up with similar wands. Is it supposed to be a big surprise?”

“Yes,” said Cormac. “Enough so that Tom Riddle had no reasonable expectation of what would happen when his wand met Harry Potter’s. Priori Incantatem is an extremely rare occurrence. You only get it when you have two wands with cores taken from the same animal, and think about that – trying to get more than one tail feather from a phoenix, or more than one tail hair from a unicorn…you can get lots of heart strings from dragons, mind you…”

“We’re not talking about sibling wand cores,” said Sparrow. “These are just two wands of the same type. We’re not dealing with Priori Incantatem here.”

“That remains to be seen,” said Cormac. “There is, after all, only one way to find out.”

“Ask Ollivander?” said Sparrow.

“Two ways to find out,” said Cormac. “Sparrow, may I see your wand?”

Sparrow glanced around her. “As long as we’re safe.”

“We’re at Hogwarts, for goodness sake. The wards are strong.”

“But safe from a flying prank?”

Cormac looked confused. “You are Sparrow Jones,” he said. “I have always known you as a bold girl. Was it a veneer? Have you always been this nervous?”

“Yes,” said Sparrow and Jill at the same time.

“What,” said Cormac, “were you born nervous?”

“No,” said Sparrow. “But in my life I have been given great cause to keep my eyes and ears open. I have no wish to leave myself vulnerable, not even for a minute.”

Cormac looked concerned.

“It’s fine,” said Sparrow. “I’m fine, it’s just…never mind. Maybe I’ll explain later. The point is I’m perfectly fine with my wand to hand, but I’ve never let my wand be more than an arm’s length from my hand. And I’ve never given it to anyone.”

“You rely on it,” said Cormac. “Perhaps too much. I told you about muggle solutions. Maybe you should be thinking about how to use them, just in case your wand is lost.”

“It won’t be,” said Sparrow.

“May I please see your wand?”

Sparrow shook her head.

“What if you stood real close to me while I held it? Then you could grab it out of my hands in case a big hairy monster attacked.”

Sparrow stepped close to Cormac. Still she held tight to her wand.

“Come on,” said Cormac. “I don’t bite.” He held out his hand, wherein lay Jill’s wand.

Sparrow shivered as she held her wand over Cormac’s open palm. She let it stay there for a few seconds, then let it go. She did not stop shivering.

Jill moved to her side and placed a brawny arm around Sparrow’s shoulder, drawing her close.

Sparrow’s trembling ceased, and she let out a deep breath.

Cormac peered at the wands in his hand. “I think I made a mistake,” he said, “by putting them in the same hand. I can hardly tell these apart in the dim light.” He drew his own wand from a pocket of his robes. “Lumos.” He held the light over the wands. “Damn. It’s still difficult. Precisely the same length, extremely similar grain pattern, clearly from the same piece of hornbeam. The only real difference is the pattern on the handles, but even that’s close enough to keep fooling my eyes. If I were to toss these wands from hand to hand – ”

“Don’t even think about it,” said Sparrow.

“ – I would wind up forgetting which was which. These wands look like identical twins. A veritable Fred and George Weasly of wands. In fact, I think I have forgotten already. Do either of you remember which one was – ”

Jill pointed to the wand on the right side of Cormac’s palm. “That one’s mine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely.”

“How?”

“I know my own wand.”

“Fair enough.” Cormac passed the wand on the left side of his palm to his left hand, and held up one wand to each ear in turn, then both together.

The two girls stared at him with quizzical expressions.

“They sound about the same,” said Cormac. “Almost as if their cores came from the same animal after all. I think these wands were born at the same time. I think they are identical twins. But, let us be more certain.” He handed the wands back. “Why don’t you cast some spells at each other that will strike each other, so we can see if they get a real Priori Incantatem going. And it would have to be a spell both of you could cast…something that wouldn’t be offensive or defensive. A cheering charm. Try that.”

“After as much as you have asked already,” said Sparrow, “you would have me alter someone’s mind without their permission?”

“Perhaps a color-changing spell then.”

“A warmth charm,” said Jill. “Perfect for a night like tonight.”

“I don’t know,” said Sparrow. “If you turned up the heat on that one, it could become an offensive spell.”

“For Harry’s Sake,” said Cormac, “stop trying to talk yourself out of this and cast the damn spell!”

Sparrow and Jill separated and stood facing each other. They lined their wands up, readied their proper dueling stances, and said “ _Ciribiribin_.”

Out of the ends of both wands floated a line of visible water vapor.

The two lines met, and held there. At the place where they met they began to glow more brightly, and more again as the seconds passed.

For those seconds, no one spoke.

At last Cormac broke the silence. “This is it then,” he said. “The Priori Incantatem. Two wands with a core from the same animal cast spells at each other, they meet in the middle, they struggle, they push against each other, until one wins the duel and – now hang on a minute.”

The lines of water vapor were not pushing against each other, but wrapping around.

“They’re supposed to be fighting,” said Cormac. “I don’t know what’s going on here.”

“Perhaps,” said Jill, “Each wand loves the other too much.”

“Perhaps,” said Sparrow, “each wand thinks it is one half of a whole, and refuses to fight against itself.”

The water vapor had become a cloud, glowing bright white now, and growing ever larger, and larger, filling the space between the three students. Sparrow put out a finger and tried to touch the cloud. No spark jumped to her finger, nor did her finger dissolve. Perhaps it was safe.

In the next moment Sparrow could only hope that the cloud was harmless, because it suddenly expanded to engulf all three students. Within was bright white light, and she had to put her hand in front of her eyes to avoid being blinded. She could not look around to see where Jill was, but she felt a fumbling hand grip her shoulder, and then another one.

It almost felt like Jill’s hands. Large, strong. Yet not nearly as heavy. Couldn’t be Cormac’s hands either. His were always gentle. So whose –

The cloud vanished.

Sparrow looked around. There was nothing in this courtyard but three students, some stone benches, and the rain.

And yet…there was something else.

Heat.

Not oven heat, but soft heat. Tropical heat. Just like the Ciribiribin spell. Sparrow put a hand out to one of the stone benches. It was pleasantly warm.

“Fascinating!” said Cormac. “The two wands must have amplified the spell a thousandfold when working together. If we can find a place that we wouldn’t worry about destroying then we ought to see what else happens with that effect.”

“I think I’m perfectly satisfied for the time being,” said Jill, sounding and looking like she was about to cry, as Sparrow had a few minutes before.

“But – ”

“I said. I am. Satisfied. Sparrow, maybe you ought to practice with Cormac instead of me for the time being. And…hold off from dating, for a while. Until we figure this thing out.”

“We’re Off then?” said Sparrow.

“For now.”

“Would you still hold me close?”

“If ever you feel afraid. Otherwise, I am…I don’t want to make you afraid, that’s the thing. And I worry too much that I could.”

“So you abandon me again?”

Jill put a hand on Sparrow’s shoulder. “Never more than an arm’s length,” said Jill. “That is what I promised. And I don’t promise lightly. I am here for you if you need me.” She lifted her hand and took a step back. “But not in any more imtimate capacity than that. Not for now. I am sorry.”

“I’d like to think you could still experiment,” said Cormac.

Jill shot him a glare.

“I’m just saying – ”

“You seem to know wandlore,” said Jill. “Go and ask Ollivander. This is his fault anyway. Come on, let’s get into the common room before we’re spotted being out of bed.”


	9. Stop helping me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jocasta Carrow tries to help Sparrow become a little more violent.

“I think I know how you can cast an offensive spell,” said Jocasta.

They were in the History of Magic classroom, approximately ten minutes before the class was to begin.

“Do tell.”

“You have to hate your target.”

Sparrow frowned. “I’m not sure that I hate anybody specific.”

“Nobody at all?”

“There’s a fair few people around here who I’m annoyed with, sure, and plenty of people in the world who have made bad choices, and plenty of people I would have strenuous disagreements with, if I knew them personally. But, around here? No. I don’t have any personal enmities.”

“So little miss high-and-mighty is also miss nice-nice." said Jocasta. "Doesn’t want to hurt anyone and doesn’t hate anyone. I had you figured wrong! You’re just a sweet widdle angel covered in sugar.”

“Are you trying to goad me?” said Sparrow.

Jocasta sat down heavily at a desk. “I’m just…I mean, I thought that if you were all judgy about everyone then it would be easy for you to follow my advice. Now I have to come up with something better.”

“Like what?”

“I haven’t thought of it yet.”

“Why do you even want to help me with that?”

“Never mind.”

She said nothing more to Sparrow, as they waited the remaining time before the class began.

At the sound of the clock striking one, the remaining students shuffled reluctantly into the classroom, sat down at their desks, and prepared to take a post-lunch nap. Professor Binns floated out of the blackboard and started his usual drone. “In the mid seventeenth century, the Welsh Wizarding Council blah, blah, blah…”

Jocasta leaned over to Sparrow and whispered, “Your mother’s a whore.”

“She was,” whispered Sparrow. “Is, kind of. I never asked her much about it though. Who knows? Maybe I’m a half-blood.”

“Are you serious? Fine. Your father’s a whore.”

“I thought I had made it clear that I don’t consider that an insult.”

Jocasta said nothing more for a while, but fumed silently, drumming her fingers on the table. Then she poked Sparrow.

“Knock it off,” said the girl.

Poke.

“I said knock it off.”

Poke.

“Quit it!” Sparrow flicked Jocasta’s hand away.

Jocasta kept trying, with Sparrow trying to fend her off. They went at this for about twenty seconds before a glowing yellow wall sprang up between them.

Sparrow looked around. The entire class was staring. Including, of all people, Professor Binns.

“Twenty points from Slytherin,” said Binns, “and twenty from Hufflepuff.”

…

“I’ve never heard of Binns doing anything with house points,” said Cormac, as he played a soft tune on his ukulele.

The Hufflepuff common room was busy this evening with people doing homework. Nevertheless, people did their best to stay away from Sparrow and her friends. Apparently losing Hufflepuff more than a hundred house points within the first 6 months of the school year could put a dent in your reputation.

Sparrow was sitting in a comfy chair by the fire, holding her wand in the palm of her hand. “Oh, I’m sure he’s done it once,” she said. “Maybe centuries ago. But I wanted to ask you about wands.”

“I am surprised,” said Cormac. “After what I put you through in the Courtyard.”

“I have my wand in hand,” said Sparrow. “And so I have my confidence in hand.”

“But not your girl.”

“Now that’s a touchy subject.”

“Or a lack-of-touchy subject.”

Sparrow shot Cormac a glare.

“Sorry. I’m just saying, I blame myself for that one too.”

“Don’t. Jill’s been running away from me this entire school year so far. Maybe the wand thing is just an excuse…but I can never think that badly of her, can I? She promised she wouldn’t run away again. And she’s got to have good reasons for keeping herself at arm’s length now. I just wish she would tell me what they were. I wish she would explain.”

“Likewise you to me,” said Cormac. “I’d appreciate knowing why you’re always nervous.”

“I said I’d tell you later. On a night when we can get to the dragon tower again. That’s a promise. Anyway, wands. You said that my wand had absorbed my own principles. It’s not alive, though, is it?”

“They’re alive,” said Cormac. “That’s the first chapter of the book on basic wandlore. The question is, how much can they think? Even Ollivander isn’t certain. Then again, I don’t know if he’s ever bothered to figure out. That’s something to ask him, I suppose. As it is, your wand is learning along with you. That’s why we’re in school, Sparrow. That’s why it takes so long to become a proper wizard. You’re shepherding your wand along the path to power as much as the teachers are shepherding you. You’ve got a partner in crime and you have to figure out how to work with them.”

“So can I, like, talk to the wand?”

“Oh sure! But it might not talk back.” Cormac winked. “If you want a conversation, well. I’m sure there’s something on that in the library. Maybe. The wand lore book makes much of wands having personalities, but maybe it’s the same way a dog has a personality. You can tell it what to do, but it can’t tell you what to do.”

“That’s been bugging me.” Sparrow held her wand up to the light. “We talk about mastering the wand, of owning the wand, but if it’s a living thing – ”

“It’s like being the master of a dog. You’re not some kind of slave driver.”

Sparrow glanced at Cormac, a lad as pale as anything. Then she glanced at her own hand, which had a tendency to blend into shadows. “I should certainly hope not. But it’s still uncomfortable. I do not want to be a master. I want to be a partner. I want to have a relationship with this thing that isn’t just ‘do this do that.’ What I mean is, I would like to be able to convince this wand to do some basic offensive spells. I’m a little more amenable to the idea now, but this thing is a real…stick in the mud. Har har har.” She pocketed the wand.

“A relationship? The wand isn’t a person, Sparrow. It’s a tool. Like a boarhound or a farm cat. It has a personality but there’s only so much you can do to connect with it.”

“But what if that isn’t true? Come on. You’re the wand expert around here, you have to at least entertain the possibility.”

“Are you going to turn into another Hermione Granger? Going to Liberate the Wands?”

Sparrow gave Cormac a searching glance.

“What?”

“Are you saying the liberation of the House Elves was a bad thing?”

“I mean, it caused a bit of mess, didn’t it? Wizards had to start doing things themselves, things they didn’t exactly know how to do.”

Sparrow glanced at her hand, then back to Cormac. “It only caused a bit of mess, did it? Yes, you’re right. That’s all it caused. A bit of mess. Wizarding society was able to pick up where the House Elves left off. Which means they never needed the elves in the first place. They were just a bunch of lazy twats who liked to boss elves around. Now, think about what it would have meant if the loss of the House Elves DID cause a real problem. It would mean that we’re not as powerful as all that, and that we did, in fact, require slaves to do the menial tasks, the heavy lifting, et cetera. Either way Wizards don’t come out looking good, do they?”

“They liked it!” said Cormac. He strummed a discordant note, grimaced, and set the ukulele aside. “Granger’s first effort flamed out because the House Elves genuinely enjoyed serving Wizards! She went around calling for freedom and the house elves _did not want it_. She thought she knew what they needed and when they told her she didn’t listen. Just like you sometimes. I’ve heard you want to break the Statute of Secrecy down. Did you ask anyone if they would benefit?”

“To be fair,” said Sparrow, “I haven’t had a chance. You know it’s a forbidden subject for me. Nobody’s explained why, exactly. I’m just supposed to get the idea. I mean, if it were true that Wizards were only so powerful, maybe we’d be in genuine danger from the muggles, but. We can just wave a wand and have things happen. What can they do to us?”

“Obliterate an entire section of countryside in an instant with one bomb.”

Sparrow’s eyes grew wide. “Are you serious?”

“Entirely serious.”

“How on earth – ”

“And,” said Cormac, leaning forward in his chair, “Despite their troubles in recent decades, they still have the capability to launch half of the bombs they’ve got.”

“How many do they have?”

“Enough to blow the world’s surface to oblivion a hundred times over.”

There was a long pause.

“Well,” said Sparrow. “Shit.”

“You’re the muggleborn, girl. You ought to know about this more than I do.”

“Hey, I’m the kind of kid who had their wildest dreams come true when they went to Hogwarts. I haven’t studied muggles much lately. You’re more interested than me. It’s like when you go to a friend’s house and they’ve got all kinds of new toys that you don’t, so you say ‘wow’ and they say ‘ho hum’. I’m a kid in a goddamn candy store here at Hogwarts. But tell me more about this county-obliterating bomb. It sounds positively wizardly.”

“You know from Muggle Studies that by this era, long after we abandoned them, they’ve managed to come up with their own kind of wizardry. They’ve unlocked secrets of the universe that we never bothered with, just as we unlock secrets that they don’t even know how to look for. They’ve found elements beyond what we know, and discovered the smallest unit of each, and discovered how to break those units in two. That’s where the bomb comes from. They figured out that there’s quite a bit of energy packed into each of those units. They discovered the fundamental properties of light itself, peered into the heavens and discovered cold heavens far beyond what we know, and cold heavens far beyond them, and beyond them, and beyond them. They figured out how to focus light to go all in one direction, so as to travel miles upon miles in a tiny straight line, and light a match at the end, as easy as if from a pace away . They strapped a kind of internal combustion engine to wings, attached those to long narrow vehicles – ”

“I know what aeroplanes are, Cormac.”

“Believe me, some pureblood wizards don’t. Ignotius Travers – you know him, he was the one who put a knee through the Cadogan portrait last year – he asked me if I knew what those tiny things zooming along in the sky were, and couldn’t understand me when I said that they’re thirty thousand feet above. Some people don’t bother to teach their children about muggle things and don’t care if their children fail the Muggle Studies class.”

“Pureblood nonsense,” said Sparrow.

“Mostly,” said Cormac. “Sometimes you get mixed parents who figure their children will be totally ensconsed in the Wizarding World anyway so why bother. But everyone else has some idea of what Muggles can do. If Voldemort had ever revealed himself to the Muggle world, if he had ever tried to overthrow them, he would have been vaporized in short order. They’ve got bombs that can level entire city districts without having to level the entire countryside. They’ve got aeroplanes that can fly without humans in them and throw a missile straight at your house. They’ve got electric servants floating high in the heavens – ”

“I also know what satellites are.”

“Ah, but did you know that these satellites have wondrous muggle cameras in them that zoom nearly all the way to the ground? If Muggles had known where the Death Eaters were meeting on the evening of Voldemort’s rebirth, the satellites would have been able to direct a missile to that precise location and eliminate the entire gang in one fell swoop. And possibly Harry Potter as well. They’re not very good at limiting collateral damage. Seem to have developed a military doctrine to maximize it. Nasty business.” He waved a hand as if brushing away a fly. “The point is, Mr. Riddle and his ilk, all the pureblood-superiority people, they’re totally ignorant of what muggles can do. They’re lucky that we hide ourselves away. If Muggles were ever exposed to Lethifolds, they’d probably start dropping bombs like crazy.”

“Lethifold?”

“A black blanket creature that smothers people and eats them.”

Sparrow’s eyes grew wide. She began to shiver. Even as she left her chair and sat directly upon the hearth, she shivered.

“Something the matter?”

“Nothing,” said Sparrow.

“Does this have to do with your being nervous all the time?”

“Please drop the subject.”

“It sure sounds like you were attacked by a – ”

Sparrow turned her head towards Cormac, glaring at him with nearly as much fury as a tiny schoolgirl could muster.

Cormac fell silent.

After a few seconds, he picked up his ukulele and played a soft tune, head bent to his work. For a while he played, one tune after another, never speaking, never raising his head, as if he did not dare to meet Sparrow’s gaze again.

Sparrow was the first to break the silence. “I think I remember that song,” she said. “I’ve got sixpence, jolly jolly sixpence…”

“Just playing the muggle tunes I remember,” said Cormac. “Try this one.” He plucked out another tune.

“Mm-ah went the little green frog one day…”

“Marvelous. I didn’t expect you to know that one, it’s an American tune.”

“Well how do you know it, then?”

“Now that’s a long story that I’ll have to explain later.” Cormac winked.

Sparrow did not smile at this, but set her mouth in a grim line.

Cormac set the ukulele aside. “I am sorry,” he said. “I have crossed a line tonight that I should have known not to cross. Or come much too close to it, anyway. I would appreciate hearing your story someday, even if it is far from now. But that’s up to you. As for me and my story…you hear the muggle songs out of me, and you already know I have an interest in the things they do. I had hoped our efforts to get past Filch would benefit from being a muggle method, something he was unfamiliar with, I mean, he’s lived so long at this school he can’t possibly know the muggle world – no such luck, that time.”

“Why are you interested in muggles?” said Sparrow. “Wizards are cool.”

“Are we?” said Cormac. “Are we really? I don’t feel it. I’m actually insecure about the whole thing. I think that if Wizarding Britain ever revealed itself to Muggle Britain they would look like laughingstocks. Look at what we have around us and what we use. Candles? Coaches? Quills? This world is practically frozen in time.”

“It makes me wonder,” said Sparrow. “If we’d never done the Statute of Secrecy, would we have gotten stuck like this? Or would we have taken the opportunity to integrate Wizard magic with muggle magic?”

“Judging from personal experience I’d say neither. But that’s a story for another time.” Cormac winked. “Keeping my lips sealed about that for now.”

“Just like me, huh? Well maybe when I tell you my story you can tell me yours. For now…I can see that we’ve got our world and muggles have theirs. I can’t say I like it. But at the very least, I understand why it’s worth being hidden at the moment. Thank you, Cormac, for the explanation. That was more about the subject than anyone has ever told me.”

“Glad I could help. Say, where’s Jill got to lately? She used to hang around here more often. I only see her in class now.”

Sparrow sighed. “It’s like I said. She’s got me at arm’s length. I wonder if I can even blame her? Imagine if we cast a fireball at each other. We’d probably blow up the entire castle.”

“Next time I see her, I’ll tell her you’re disappointed.”

“She knows.”

“And I will tell her that you understand her actions.”

“Fair enough.” Sparrow rose from the fire, and departed without a word.

…

In the ensuing weeks, Sparrow had to admit, reluctantly, to herself, that Cormac had helped her by mentioning Lethifolds, even if he had touched a painful nerve. In his blundering curiousity he had given Sparrow the opportunity to name the fear that had haunted her for so long, to give it shape, to set it in the world, such that she could at last confront the matter –

Through study, of course. If Lethifolds were indeed the culprit of the worst night she’d ever had, then they were extremely dangerous, and not the sort of thing one should attack without understanding its patterns.

So she asked Hagrid about these curious black blanket things, hoping for some further explanation. He could offer little more than what Cormac had told her. According to him Lethifolds were tropical things, rarely seen even in the tropics. He’d seen two in the Forbidden Forest during the later part of the blooming season – Sparrow had gone pale at this news, and Hagrid was only able to get her to stop shaking like a leaf when he told her that he’d only seen one Lethifold at a time over two decades, and never again. That information plus a great deal of tea had settled her nerves.

Hagrid didn’t know what the Lethifolds were made out of, because he’d never been able to catch one, nor did he know how they reacted, because he’d never wanted to stay around long enough to observe one. His reaction was the same as that of anyone who had sense – to blast it with a patronus, instead of standing there taking notes like an idiot.

So even big strong old Hagrid didn’t feel safe around these things.

Sparrow then turned her attention towards the Magical Creatures section of the library. One book after another she searched, from thin catalogues to weighty tomes. And yet no matter how weighty the tome, no matter how much it could go on about unicorns and dragons and grindylows and centaurs, there was always the same paltry explanation of Lethifolds: Tropical creature, nocturnal, devours sleeping people, can only be repelled by a strong patronus charm. There was almost nothing more, in any text, than what she could find in any other text. She might as well stick to the Scamander textbook, for all the library was helping her.

So, at the same time that Sparrow was pleased to have an idea of what had happened to her so long ago, she was immensely frustrated to have no further information than that. Typically an entry on any animal would explain its habitat, diet, living arrangements, method of reproduction, and so forth, such that someone wishing to deal with, say, a man-eating lion, or an elephant in Musth, would have some assumptions from which they could craft a counterstroke. Villagers in India used to wear masks on the backs of their heads because they knew tigers never attacked when someone was looking at them. Doves would fly out of a bush if you beat the ground. Deer were extremely sensitive to movement from the side but could be more easily approached from the front. That sort of thing.

For Lethifolds there was nothing, a blankess, a blackness, like the creature itself. And who could blame these writers? Nobody in their right mind would attempt to study these things up close. Not Hagrid. Not Mr. Scamander. Not Dangerous Dai Llewellyn. Maybe not even Godric Gryffindor. It would be more insane than trying to study a dementor. At least those things had restraint. When you looked at a Dementor, the abyss gazed back; when you looked at a Lethifold the abyss tried to eat you.

The only clues available were personal accounts of attacks form survivors, and those were few. Less than few, in fact: two. One, the ubiquitously repeated tale of Flavius Belby, whose successful repelling of the Lethifold with a Patronus was Sparrow’s one slim hope of defense; and the attack on Lady Warbeck, wherin a Lethifold…disguised itself as a stage curtain, apparently. They could be clever, then. Even devious.

That was more troubling than anything. What if any shadow, any curtain could be waiting to devour her? What if it was right behind – but such thoughts did not bear entertainment, lest she collapse into paralyzing terror once more. The castle had wards. And walls.

And open windows.

The days would have become difficult to bear, if a certain someone had not been distracting Sparrow from her darkest thoughts. For Jocasta was trying everything she could to get on Sparrow’s bad side. She disguised a plate of rocks as cupcakes and gave it to Sparrow. She stole Sparrow’s potions textbook. She tried to trip the girl. All of it happened, but none of it worked. Sparrow knew what Jocasta was trying, and couldn’t muster any hatred for her. The girl had put herself at Sparrow’s mercy. Unless she really was suicidal, there was no way Jocasta would risk any lasting harm. She was trying to help.

In point of fact – Sparrow had been speaking somewhat in jest, when she had said that Jocasta fancied her. Yet only because she found the situation amusing. Not because she thought the concept unlikely. She had hoped that Jocasta would think Sparrow was joking, if only because the entire conversation had been so unsettling that Sparrow needed that sort of laugh to shake it off. She didn’t want to get _involved_ in anything yet. And yet – she hadn’t exactly said no to the Animagus business, nor did she entirely dislike the idea of Jocasta fancying her.

In idle moments Sparrow even missed her company, annoying as it was. Just a faint disappointment, really. Nothing serious, nothing strong, not in the least bit as strong as how she missed Jill’s affections, nor even half as strong as missing her fireside chats with Cormac. A faint wisp of longing now and then.

But more frequent. Just because Jocasta paid her more attention now, surely. The girl had seemed to atone for the incident with the ink bottle, or seemed like she wanted to. But she had not apologized.

Nor did Sparrow feel very forgiving when Jocasta started going after other students. Finny Wambsgans, for example, missed the content of a Muggle Studies class because he’d been slipped a Daydream Chocolate. Percival Bulstrode had his favorite shoes turned barf orange. There were at least three Fanged Frisbees per week. That was Jocasta losing her touch. She must have known that there would always be a shield to block a Frisbee.

Then the Quidditch teams started finding their brooms missing, the quaffles acting strangely, the snitch let loose on the pitch. Not the bludgers, though. Nobody in their right mind would mess with a bludger.

And still Sparrow knew that Jocasta was trying to help her. So no matter what frustration Jocasta could inspire, none of it became a true hatred. It was enough frustration to let Sparrow fire off a stunning spell for Professor Budge once, and thank goodness he didn’t ask her to repeat the effort, because frustration was not enough for her to do the spell again. Perhaps she did need hatred. But it did not come.

The staff was beginning to get more than a little annoyed, and they were watching the students much more closely in the hallways now. The pranks, at least the violent ones, began to dwindle.

And then, they ceased altogether.

Jocasta had given up.

Sparrow felt sorry for the girl. She had tried so hard, and none of it had stuck. Sparrow wished she could offer an apology, but after the end of her pranks Jocasta did not visit Sparrow, nor stop to talk to her in the halls. She simply walked away, as quickly as she could.

The student body breathed a sigh of relief.

All save one.

...

One fine December morning, in about the middle of the month, there was frost on the windowpanes. It was one of the few frosty days in the year. A pretty scene, and Sparrow was in high spirits for once. She was in high spirits as she traipsed to the library, past the curious glares of her classmates. She was in high spirits as she dragged a history tome off the shelf and opened to the seventeenth century. She was in high spirits as she read passages about wizards in the royal court of William and Mary.

She was in high spirits as she looked up from the book at Rubeus Hagrid, standing there at the end of the table.

“Perfesser Binns tells me,” said Hagrid, “That yer’ve been asking after the Statute of Secrecy like I told ye not to.”

“Hagrid, I – ”

“’E said ye said yer’ve been thinkin’ o’ letting muggles know about us.”

“How on earth did – I’ve never spoken to the man.”

“’E said ye asked him all kinds o’ questions about the statute.”

“And when was that?”

“Didn’t say.”

Professor Binns never lied. He had no interest in lying, nor, as far as anyone knew, any capacity to do so. “It must have been someone in his class who looks like me,” said Sparrow.

She realized how silly that sounded when she said it, but too late to take it back. Then again, there was such a thing as polyjuice potion. Was that it? Jocasta hadn’t yanked one of Sparrow’s hairs, had she? That would have been remarkably difficult to do. Sparrow wore her hair cropped close to the scalp just in case someone tried that. So how would Jocasta have managed to look like her?

“I’ve never asked Professor Binns about it, Hagrid. I mean, I talked to Cormac McKinnon, but – ah. I shouldn’t have said that. I should not have said that.”

“If yer interested in steppin’ over the line I set, Miss Jones, I think it’s high time ye had a lesson only a Care of Magical Creatures perfesser can teach ye.”

“I’m not going,” said Sparrow, and a glowing dome settled around her. “You cannot move me. No one can.”

Hagrid brought out his umbrella and made a circular motion in Sparrow’s direction. A section of floor beneath her chair separated from the rest of the library, and Sparrow found herself picked up and borne out of the room despite her best efforts.


	10. Into the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hagrid takes Sparrow on a long journey for the sake of learning humility, and discovers some of his own in the process. Sparrow unlocks an ability that is quite out of her character.

The Forbidden Forest. The land of endless shrubs. Just the sort of place where Hagrid had seen Lethifolds. Thank goodness this detention was in the rainy season instead of in warm weather. But oh, what if? What if?

Sparrow had halted at the edge, and refused to tell Hagrid why, before finally gripping her wand tight in hand, squaring her shoulders, and pressing forward. If she was going to learn whatever Hagrid wanted to teach her then she couldn’t be stopped by ancient fears.

She could be slowed down by them. Now and then she did have to stop for the sake of her nerves, and for all that this was a Detention, Hagrid never asked her to carry onward until she was ready.

An hour into the journey to wherever they were going, Sparrow finally thought to ask the question that had been on her mind. “I thought this detention was going to be something like cleaning the Thestral stables for a month,” she said. “Not hiking into the Forbidden Forest. How long does this thing go on anyway? And why am I carrying this gear when you could carry it? You could carry all the supplies without a sweat. In fact, why do we have rucksacks at all when we could just magic everything we need? These things are for muggles.”

“Hardly a punishment if it’s a walk in the park,” said Hagrid. “I can stop for ye as often as ye like but I’m still cross. So yer learnin’ a lesson. And we can’t magic everyin’ we need, because we don’t have a mokeskin bag, yer not skilled enough to handle all the spells ye’d need, and anyway ye don’t want t’ rely on magic alone when yer in a dangerous place. So, muggle gear it is. Complain all ye like but I’m not changin’ me mind about that.”

“And where exactly are we going?”

“To the grave of an old friend.”

“Out in the middle of the woods?”

“Don’t know if it’s the middle,” said Hagrid. “Never really found the other side, no matter how long I walked. And I’ve walked a long, long time. But it’s deep in. Or maybe I should say, it’s far in. Can’t call it deep if all the big trees are gone, can ye?”

Sparrow looked around. There were a lot of low bushes with long greyish tapering leaves, and the occasional tree about twice her height, a rare few twice the height of Hagrid. But there was, indeed, no depth to this place, just endlessness. Not eternity, exactly – that would have required more open space. This was more enclosed, in its own way.

Had it been the usual rainy day, as opposed to a frost day, it would have been endless misery. With frost on the leaves and upon the blades of grass, it was more like endless mystery.

“Where did the big trees go?”

“Long story,” said Hagrid. “Not all me own fault, but somewhat. It’s not me that made the world hot and dry and cold and stormy all at the same time. I just…let some things happen that weakened this place, ye could say.

“T’ begin with, there’re these birds called Rheas. Native to South America. They run over the dry plains, ye see. Tall flightless birds, like ostriches. Right? Well, some twat decided ‘e wanted ‘em around his nice parkland down in Devon.”

“So?”

“So, Rheas belong in South America. That’s their domain. Have ye not heard of Invasive Species?”

Sparrow shook her head.

“Right. Well, us humans, we think we know where to put animals, and sometimes, it turns out we don’t. Sometimes we introduce animals to places they shouldn’t go. No natural predators, right? And nobody wants to hunt ‘em. So they overrun the whole landscape and eat everything and ruin everything. Like what old Professor Kettleburn told me about Starlings in the Americas – some idiot introduced them and suddenly the regular birds started to get crowded out. Things like that. Well.”

“What does that have to do with these things?”

“I’m gettin’ t’that. I’m gettin’ t’that. See, the Rheas were kind o’like the starlings. They got loose, and this fool muggle couldn’t catch’em, and nobody could. They wouldn’t eat the poison set out for ‘em, they dodged the guns. And they multiplied. And they nibbled the landscape half to death. Ate all o’ the heath and all o’ the harvest mice. Muggles didn’t know what t’ do.”

“So why didn’t a Wizard help the muggles deal with them?”

“Muggle problem. Not our domain.”

“But – ”

“We’re Wizards, Sparrow. We also have domains. Like the starlings. Anyway, getting back to the story. The Rheas, well, they’re wild animals, they don’t know how t’ obey the Statute of Magical Secrecy. So some o’ them got themselves into the Old Forest and, er…interbred with a bunch of cockatrices. And produced these things, that hide like shrubs, run like the wind, and never get fooled by the same trick twice. Arr, see, then it became a Wizarding matter. So I got meself authorization from the Ministry of Magic, I did, and got down to Cornwall and scooped up all the new birds, and all the old birds too.”

“But you said those weren’t your domain.”

Hagrid chuckled. “I know how t’bend the rules, Miss Jones. Might even have a reputation for it. I’m lucky the prime minister is a doddering old fool who signs things without looking at them, otherwise I might never have been given the job.”

“I’m not sure where you’re going with all this,” said Sparrow, as she swept a branch out of her way.

“The story isn’t done yet, Miss Jones. I brought the birds here and called them Rhiannons. And I didn’t know what I was doing with them, because they went and they ate up all the pine cones, and they kicked out all the underbrush, and suddenly there were fewer pine trees around here, and when the world got dry…there were even fewer. So that’s why I think it’s partly me own fault that the Forbidden Forest looks the way it does now. There’s domains for you. If ye break them without knowing what yer doing, like I did, you change yer world in ways ye don’t expect.”

Sparrow looked around. There was a Rhiannon following them at a far distance. Big eyes, bigger than the girl’s fist, deep eyes. There was a mystery there too. Sparrow had the feeling that this bird knew a lot more than it was willing to let on.

For one thing, it nodded its head in the direction that Sparrow had been going, as if to tell her, “turn around”.

Sparrow turned. There was a wide clearing amidst the bushes. And there in the clearing grew the most grass she had ever seen in one place.

“What is this?” said Sparrow.

“This is it,” said Hagrid. “Aragog’s grave.”

“I don’t see it.”

“Yes ye do.”

“Well where is it then?”

Hagrid nodded to the clearing. “There.”

“The clearing?”

“Yep.”

“But where in the clearing? I told you I don’t – ”

“It’s the entire clearing.”

“ – oh. Um. Was Aragog a dragon?”

“Jus’ a spider,” said Hagrid. “A mighty one. Ruled the forest, ‘e did, along with all his children. Almost killed Harry Potter, but I was friends with Aragog, and they was friends with me. So the old spider paused long enough for a bit of muggle magic to save ‘em. Long story. If ye ever meet Ron Weasley remind him about tha’ fer me.”

“So where did Aragog’s children go? We haven’t seen any of them.”

“Can’t say fer certain.” Hagrid placed his own rucksack down, and sat upon a large rock. “Maybe they ran off to the muggle world and all got killed. Maybe they ran so far into these woods that we’ll never see them again. Either way, the Rhiannons kind of crowded them out, and once the pines were gone there weren’t much left fer ‘em so I can’t hardly blame ‘em fer leavin’. Makes detentions in this place a bit safer in th’rainy season, if a bit more boring. Anyway!” He slapped his knee. “Lesson number one. Magical creatures can get this big, and bigger. What do you think would happen if ye introduced them to the muggle world?”

“Muggles would start talking about wild monsters again like they used to?”

“And?”

“Send out some kind of knight to slay them. Or just someone with a shotgun, I guess.”

“Exactly,” said Hagrid. “Without the Statute of Secrecy, Aragog would never have survived in peace. In our little hidden world, he had the chance t’ live in peace and sire many children.” Hagrid stood, and hoisted his rucksack onto his shoulders. “Come on. The next grave is a fair distance away.”

“How far?”

“Far enough that yer goin’ t’ need that tent yer carryin’.”

“Son of a – ”

…

It took the rest of the day and half of the next day before there was another clearing. It would have taken less time, but as they continued Sparrow had to stop more and more often. Hagrid began to look a little exasperated, but didn’t give Sparrow an unkind word. He just let her tremble, as long as she needed, until she could go on again. They reached the clearing after many delays.

It was a slightly smaller space than that of Aragog, and more encroached by trees. In fact, Sparrow had not seen quite so many trees in one place before, outside of the paradise gardens.

There was a simple headstone.

 _Grawp the Short, last of the giants_. 1933-2030.

“That’s a funny name,” said Sparrow.

“It’s a giant name,” said Hagrid. “Giants understood it. I never did.”

“How did you know him?”

Hagrid told Sparrow the whole tale, from meeting him in the Ural Mountains all the way to putting him up in the Forbidden Forest.

Sparrow went over to the stone and touched the place that said 2030. “And he died close to the time I was born. What happened? Did he meet his match?”

“Ye might say that.” Hagrid dropped his rucksack and took out an apple, which he popped into his mouth and chewed. “So did muggles, in a way, although it was their own fault. Ye can’t expect a giant to be able to handle the heat. Grawp couldn’t. There was a summer when he didn’t manage to get t’ the highlands in time, and a heatwave came on and killed him. I have enough trouble handling the summer meself.”

“And you managed to drag him all the way out here?”

“Ar, well. We’d buried him at the edge of the forest, didn’t we? But the forest has its own way of doing things, let’s leave it at that. But it’s the second part that’s important. ‘Last of the giants.’ I’m sure Grawp was the last. Never saw another after him. I went back to the place where I’d seen ‘em last, back in Scandinavia. But they were gone, and all I found there were bones. So. When Grawp was gone so was the giants, and that’s that, I suppose. Now, why do ye think there were so few?

“I really have no idea. They’re in all the children’s stories.”

“Righ’, and what does old Jack do to ‘em in the stories?”

Sparrow thought. Jack, who slew a giant. Always one giant or another. Sometimes he tricked them into a hole, sometimes he tricked them into hanging themselves. “Never suffered a giant to live,” said Sparrow.

“Righ’. And Neither did King Arthur, or Thor, or anyone. Understandable, I suppose. Giants were never very friendly. They were dangerous! Ate everyone’s livestock, smashed houses, all manner of mischief. So muggles and wizards alike couldn’t let ‘em live. That’s yer second lesson. The Statute of Secrecy is for protecting muggles from dangerous beasts. There’s some that even the biggest Muggle bomb and the best muggle guns couldn’t handle. Ye know about dementors, well enough. Ye know about Lethifolds as well. Not many people do. Didn’t expect ye t’ ask about them things. Why did ye?”

“Never mind.”

“Come on, now. Ye can tell me.”

“I most certainly cannot.”

“Am I not trustworthy?”

“I said cannot. Not that I won’t tell you, but that I can’t. I can’t bring up the subject here, I can’t talk about it – here of all places I can’t even tell you, you who know how to cast a Patronus – ”

“Oh, so the brave and talented Miss Jones is scared – ”

“I have every fucking right to be!” Sparrow shrugged her rucksack off her shoulders and let it fall with a clatter. “I have every right to be scared of something _you’re_ scared of! And it’s not just about that, because if it was only that I could just climb up on your shoulders and feel safe there! You saw very clearly what happened to me when we spoke of the matter before, and how much effort it took to get me to calm down! Why the hell did you decide to bring me into the midst of this place when you knew what it would do to me?” Sparrow’s voice broke as she felt tears come to her eyes. “Why did you put me through – through all – this – ” And then there were no more words, only tears.

Hagrid placed his own rucksack upon the ground, sat down before Sparrow and fished a handkerchief out of one of his pockets. A Hagrid-sized handkerchief, enough to make a tunic for a man of normal height. He handed it to Sparrow, who buried her face in it, still weeping. It was just the sort of thing she needed right now. Her tears would have soaked a normal handkerchief fairly quickly.

Hagrid picked her up, placed her on his knee, and put a huge arm around her, as she cried herself out.

When she was finished, he said, “I’m sorry. Fer takin’ ye this far without askin’ how ye were doin’. I could’ve asked…and I was wonderin’, anyway. I thought ye might have some trouble when ye halted at the edge there. But ye decided t’ square yer shoulders and follow me. So, I figgered ye were alright with the whole journey, and ye were stopping out of exhaustion. Wouldn’t be a spurprise. Yer a little slip of a girl carryin’ an entire rucksack. But yer havin’ a bad time. Worse than most who come here. Why’d ye decide to keep goin’ after all?”

“You didn’t give me a choice.”

“Well…I didn’t tell ye there was a choice. I’ve been meaning to offer to end this whole journey for a while now, ever since ye had to stop that first time. I guess I should’ve made th’ offer earlier, eh? I was too focused on makin’ sure you got to see what I was tryin’ t’ tell ye, and didn’t realize how bad ye were takin’ it. We can go back and ye can polish everything in the trophy room, if this is too much fer ye. Or…we can go on, and I can show ye the last thing.”

“Are you making me go on?”

“After what I just saw out of yer eyes? I couldn’t possibly make ye go on. I shouldn’t have even offered. We ought t’ head back to th’ castle and finish up with somethin’ else.”

“It’s fine,” said Sparrow. “I can go on as long as…as long as you’re with me. Alright?”

“Fair enough,” said Hagrid. “And I won’t mention th’ L-word again.”

“Thank you.”

“An’ I’ll handle the rucksack.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Ye sure?”

Sparrow stood, and shouldered her burden. “I’ll let you know if I’m having trouble.”

“Fair enough.”

…

Past the grave of Grawp, there was no more path to be found. From this point on it was a complete wilderness, full of those bushes with the long tapering leaves. They scraped Sparrow as she walked by, and she had to keep her shield spell up just to brush them out of the way. Sometimes Hagrid carried her on his shoulders, though she didn’t want to make him a pack horse for the entire trip. Most of the time she walked.

For days. Through the cold rain. The frost had long since gone. Sparrow’s one solace in the whole journey was that, in this cold and misery, crawling insects were dormant. Blooming season should have been the joy of the year for her, as it was for so many, but for her it was bittersweet, for now she had to wonder if the year’s growing heat would let Lethifolds hide within the forest. Had she been out in the forest in March she would not have gone a step beyond the giant’s grave.

Yet here in the wet season she was stepping farther than she had ever dreamed of going. Sparrow lost count of the hills they climbed, the mountains they skirted, and the rivers they forded -- well, Hagrid towed a floating Sparrow over those rivers. In these hills the trees began to thin out, but the bushes never did. In fact they seemed to get thicker.

“It occurs to me,” said Sparrow, as they descended a slope towards a lake, “that you could fit quite a lot of Wizards in here. In fact, you could probably fit all of Wizarding Britain in here.”  
“True enough,” said Hagrid. “There aren’t many wizards around anyway. What do you have, forty to a year? Fifty? You could fit every wizard in Britain into Hogwarts, although some o’ them might be competing for elbow space. And then inventing spells to steal people’s elbows.”

“So why don’t we?”

“Stuff every wizard into one place?” said Hagrid. “Make every wizard live in Hogsmeade? Turn Diagon Alley into a Wizard City? Ha! Sounds like something a Pureblood Supremacist would come up with. No, Miss Jones, Wizards themselves wouldn’t take kindly to that. Our magic is secret, but plenty o’ folks still got friends in the muggle world. Imagine tellin’ them they had to live far away from muggles, away from their parents, their relatives, their favorite parks and forests.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. What if we stuffed all of Britain into this forbidden forest? I feel like we’ve walked as far as Kent is wide.”

“Might have done by now. But I sincerely hope yer jokin’ about the stuffin’ part.”

“Maybe. I mean, supposing the pureblood supremacists did want to completely withdraw from the muggle world, they could re-create their own wizard society entirely within this place, couldn’t they?”

“Maybe,” said Hagrid, as he lowered Sparrow down a tall ledge. “But then, yer thinkin’ o’ this whole thing like the fellers in Berlin in the 1880s thought about Africa. Who are you to shift th’ whole world around like it’s yer chess board, hm? It aren’t hardly fair to change people’s lives for them without asking, now is it?”

“Perhaps not,” said Sparrow. “Sometimes it’s for their own good though.”

Hagrid had been preparing to climb down the ledge after her, but then he paused. “And ye know what’s good for ‘em better than they do, eh?”

“Sometimes. I mean, people do some really stupid things.”

“Like run around asking too many questions about the Statute of Secrecy?”

Hagrid’s position above Sparrow did not inspire her to offer any comment.

“You just want to be able t’ do yer magic in public, I’ll be bound. That’s why ye were askin’ about domains.”

“There’s more to it than that!” said Sparrow. “The first time I read my magical creatures textbook, I wanted everyone to see dragons. I thought every kid in the world should get the chance to see a unicorn. And then I come to Hogwarts and people tell me no, it all has to be secret. Shush shush. Everybody’s missing out on this! Everyone is missing out on doing wonders, because we’re all shut up here. I want the whole world to have magic, Hagrid. Is that too much to ask?”

Hagrid raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Been thinkin’ about this all yer school years, have ye?”

“Sort of. I only came up with the idea of giving everyone magic after you told me about dangerous creatures attacking muggles.”

Hagrid sighed. “The things I set off because I can’t keep me big mouth shut. Again. Yer beginnin’ t’ sound like ol’ Grindlewald. But yer not interested in lordin’ it over muggles, are ye? Yer not selfish like he was. But still dangerous. Who would have thought that a little Hufflepuff girl would be wanting t’ do things more dangerous than Voldemort ever thought of? Ar, but he was selfish too.”

“What do you mean, dangerous? I want to give everyone the same power I have.”

“Exactly the point,” said Hagrid. “Ar, but McGonnogal knows more about wizard politics than I do. I’m bring ye along t’show ye what I can demonstrate, not speak fer her. So.” He finished climbing the ledge. “Ye want t’ give every bloke and blighter and biddy in the world some magic, is that it? Let ‘em in on the wizarding world. Ha! I’m about t’ show yer some things even most wizards can’t handle.”

“If you’re taking me to meet my worst fear after all – ”

“I’m not a complete idiot,” said Hagrid.

“Then what are we seeing? Dragons?”

…

They had halted at the top of a low mountain.

Hagrid had decided this was a good place to end the journey, for, as he said, the plain beyond was something he’d barely escaped alive. He waved his wand in the air and the image of the plain grew in their sight as if through a giant telescope. “Here,” he said, “We ought ter be safe watching from this distance.”

“Watching what?”

In the magical telescope Sparrow could see the Rhiannons. They ran almost too fast to notice – at one moment they were on one edge of the view, and in the next moment they were on the other. And it was a wide view indeed. Sparrow stepped to the side of the magical telescope and tried to take in the view of the plain as a whole. From one horizon to another, over a flat expanse, there were clumps of the very sorts of bushes that she and Hagrid had passed between to get here. There was little else. A few different sorts of low trees, some scraggly vegetation close to the ground. Not much more.

She’d been told that, once upon a time, there had been more plant variety in the world. But that was mostly gone now. It was all about the same, only changing color from green-gray in the wet season to green-brown in the dry season.

From this distance, she could see the Rhiannons moving faster than she’d ever seen a car go.

So what, exactly, was able to overtake their speed by an order of magnitude? What was the creature moving so fast that she could only see its aftermath when a Rhiannon’s neck exploded in blood?

“Things down there,” said Hagrid. “Never quite figured out what they were or where they came from. I was too busy tryin’ t’escape, ye see. Got a bit too close last time.”

“You can’t apparate out of here?”

“We’re on the Hogwarts grounds, Miss Jones. Besides which, I never got taught how, now did I? Got expelled in me third year fer somethin’ I never did. Long story, ye might have heard it already. It was back when Aragog was a wee little spider…”

Sparrow was not listening to Hagrid, for she had finally seen one of the swift creatures come to a halt. It was feasting upon the Rhiannon that had died messily. A creature like a cat, yet extremely narrow and pointed, as if meant to slice right through the air. She thought of a shark in cat form. This one was dull gray, like everything in this landscape. But what to call it? A Shark Cat? A Cat Shark? A Cark?

The most dangerous cats she had never heard of were called Nundu. They could spread poison breath over a whole area and nothing could take them down. Perhaps these were related.

“You haven’t named them yet,” said Sparrow. “So I get to do it first.”

“Now hang on a minute, I saw them first – ”

“They shall be known as Narks.”

Hagrid scratched his head. “Name sounds familiar, but alrigh’. Fair enough. Narks it is. Let’s keep watching a bit and head back then.”

Sparrow shrugged. “I feel like I’ve seen everything there is to – wait.” Sparrow stepped away from the magical telescope and surveyed the landscape.

The Rhiannon had started from _there_ …and reached _there_ within the space of a second. The Nark had started from _somewhere_ and reached _there_ within half a second. Maybe it was from a distance shorter than what the Rhiannon travelled. Maybe it was from a longer distance. But the space the Rhiannon had crossed looked like it was slightly longer than the distance from its corpse to the mountaintop.

“We may not actually be safe here,” said Sparrow.

“Nonsense,” said Hagrid. “They can’t see us from up here.”

“Then how do they spot a Rhiannon from a longer distance? They have the eyes of hawks, Hagrid. I’ve seen enough. We should be going. Right now.”

Sparrow glanced at the magical telescope. In it, the Nark had lost the Rhiannon to a larger and more powerfully built beast of stamping feet and jutting horns. This one had no need to move as fast as the Nark, because it could just bully other creatures out of their kills. Having no chance to get its food back, the Nark had lost interest.

And it was staring straight at the two wizards.

Sparrow had the space of half a second to get her shield up before the cat slammed into it. The shock of the impact forced the girl a step back. She had never been forced back before, not even an inch. No spell of Jill’s had ever hit with as much force as the Nark did, and before Sparrow could even react the Nark had run back and then straight at the barrier again. Every impact forced the girl backward. And why was it not going at her from the side?

She turned her shield into a dome over herself and Hagrid, just before the Nark slammed into it from the side.

“Oh boy,” said Sparrow, “I sure wish we could apparate out of here.” She winced as the Nark slammed into the barrier again. “I sure wish someone had learned how to do that.”

“Excuse me fer gettin’ framed by Voldemort ninety years ago!” said Hagrid.

“Well maybe you can stun this thing,” said Sparrow. “Because I sure can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t? Oh right, I’m talkin’ t’ Sparrow Jones. Ha! Well, What if I just try to catch it with me bare hands?”

“Somehow I don’t think you’d survive that. Oh, great. Now what’s it doing?”

The Nark had ceased to ram its head into the barrier, and was now attempting to bite through it. Sparrow thought this to be comical.

Until the barrier began to flicker.

“You didn’t answer my question,” said Sparrow. “Why can’t you stun this thing?”

“It eats magic,” said Hagrid. “Tell you what. I’ll just get close here…” He moved to the space where the Nark was eating the barrier and waited. The Nark looked at him and snarled, then moved to a different spot and took a bite. Hagrid wound up spinning in place as the Nark continued to move, stopping only here and there to keep biting.

The barrier flickered, and finally disappeared.

In that instant, Hagrid whirled around, and he caught the beast, holding his hands over its muzzle.

The Nark was surprisingly strong, for all that its build seemed more gracile than powerful. Perhaps it took a great deal of strength to reach near-supersonic speeds. As it was, Hagrid had a hard time keeping the Nark’s jaws shut, and it scratched at his arms and torso as they struggled upon the ground. Sparrow began to understand why Hagrid wore that giant moleskin coat, because it tended to make sharp claws slide off.

“Stun it!” said Hagrid.

“What if I hit you?”

“I can take a few hits!” said Hagrid. “Don’t worry about me, just stun this thing and keep at it!”

“But it eats magic – oh. I see.”

Stun magic. Offensive magic. The very sort of magic she had sworn to avoid. Every bit of her life past eight years old had bent towards learning how to defend her friends without having to hurt anyone. She didn’t want to hate anyone or hurt them, not even the fierce wild beasts, not even – perhaps not even the most deadly of them all.

“What are ye waitin’ for?” said Hagrid.

He was beginning to lose ground. Sparrow tried to think of a good defensive spell, something that would tie the Nark up. She pointed her wand at the Nark and shouted, “ _Petrificus Totalis_!”

The Nark froze for the space of half a second, just long enough for Hagrid to get a better grip on its muzzle. But then the Nark began to thrash again.

“Stun it!” said Hagrid. “Don’t waste time playing nice!”

Hagrid was already back to where he had been. He wasn’t going to last much longer. And Sparrow was out of ideas. But she had no idea if the stunning spell would even work, and there might not be enough time to try anything else if it didn’t. How was she supposed to make it work?

Jocasta had told her she needed to feel hatred if she was to cast an offensive spell. How could she hate a wild creature? It was innocent. Fierce, deadly, but technically innocent. And yet, by that criteria a Lethifold was innocent well. Sparrow had no desire to entertain that possibility.

Hagrid looked like his grip was about to slip.

Jill had told Sparrow about the value of offensive spells. How sometimes a friend was in danger and there was nothing you could do but to strike their assilant down. And Hagrid was a friend. And Sparrow had sworn to never let a friend come to harm, never again. There was nothing for it, then, but to break her vow of peace.

Sparrow pointed her wand at the snarling beast and, with all the fear and rage and hatred she could muster, shouted “ _Stupefy!_ ”

A jet of red light shot out from the wand and struck the creature between the shoulder blades. The Nark shuddered, and then seemed to grow slightly larger. Again Sparrow shouted “ _Stupefy!_ ” and the nark grew a bit larger still, and slightly reddish.

Again and again she threw a stunning spell at the beast, while Hagrid held on for dear life. Bit by bit the Nark grew larger and redder. Hagrid began to look like he was reaching the last of his strength. The Nark was now half again as large as it had been, now twice as large, now three times as large. Hagrid was holding onto the beast now instead of being able to hold it down. If it got a bit larger it would be able to carry him away. A swipe of its paw was now powerful enough to go right through the moleskin coat and draw blood.

Sparrow hesitated.

“What are ye waitin’ for?” said Hagrid. “Finish it off!”

Another stunning spell wouldn’t be good enough. What else was there? Stupefy was the only one she was familiar with because it was the one she kept trying to do. But Jill had a dozen different attacks in her repertoire. What was her favorite? Oh yes.

“Expulso!” shouted Sparrow. “Expulso! Expulso!”

Three mighty blasts in quick succession, all absorbed by the creature’s skin. Had the Nark not been full of magic already it could have survived all three. Yet, having devoured an entire magical barrier cast by the strongest barrier witch of the age, and at least twenty stunning spells, there was no more room within the Nark for anything else. Red light shone through its cracking skin, and then the cracks erupted in flame.

The Nark raised its head and howled in pain, its body shuddering in the final throes of death. It fell to the ground beside Hagrid and lay still, with no more shuddering, no flinching nor thrashing, as the flames licked over its charred and blackened body.

The beast was no more.

For a moment, neither Wizard moved nor spoke.

Hagrid got to his feet and took a handkerchief out of one of his surviving coat pockets. Yet when he offered it to Sparrow, she did not move to take it, nor did she even look at it. She remained standing there, wand held outward, her gaze never leaving the spot where she had killed the Nark.

Hagrid sat back down upon the stone. He spoke not a word as Sparrow remained standing.

Until at last the girl said, “I cast a curse.” She let her arm drop. “Let that be the last time.”


	11. The Greenhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda has a confession to make.

The journey back to the castle was quiet, especially at first. Sparrow’s only communication with Hagrid had been to nod when he offered to carry her upon his shoulders. Otherwise she spoke not a word, not for a good long while. There was, after all, nothing left to say. The lesson was learned. The job was done. Good enough, right? More than good enough. It was done too well.

Well, there was something to say when magic had to be done. Here was a stream to ford. Narrow, deep and swift, something that Hagrid could cross but Sparrow could not. The girl produced her wand, pointed it at herself and spoke for the first time in hours. “Levicorpus.”

Nothing happened.

“I thought ye had that spell mastered,” said Hagrid.

“I did,” said Sparrow. “I think my wand won’t produce magic.”

“I shan’t say I’m surprised,” said Hagrid. “Ye’ve had a rough day and ye’ve been through a lot this week. I’m surprised ye decided t’ talk t’ me again.”

“I’m fine,” said Sparrow. “Well, better. I’m blaming my wand for this one. I cast offensive magic. I killed the Nark. I think my wand is mad at me.”

“Fer savin’ our lives?”

“For violating some of my core principles, which the wand took on as its own core principles.”

Hagrid looked confused. “Ye mean te tell me,” said Hagrid, “that even if it’s fer a good cause, even if it’s t’ save the life of a friend, yer wand will punish ye fer doing somethin’ out of character?”

“Seems like it.”

Hagrid scowled. “Pardon me French, Miss Jones, but yer wand is an uptight bitch.”

“I am not at liberty to agree with you,” said Sparrow. “But my wand and I appear to be having a row. So, would you be a dear and carry me across the river?”

Hagrid grumbled as he lifted Sparrow onto his shoulders. He grumbled as he waded into the water.

As the river got up to Hagrid’s waist, he said, “No more hexes, then, eh? No more jinxes, no more curses. Ha! But wizards have to get creative sometimes, don’t they, ‘cos sometimes a spell just doesn’t work on yer target, and sometimes ye just can’t cast the spell ye want. Well, here’s an idea. The wand won’t let you cast curses. But what if ye cast regular spells offensively? Like turning up Lumos way high in order to blind people. Or making yer shield move forward at high speed.”

“Can I do that?”

“Yer a Wizard, Miss Jones. What can’t ye do?”

They walked on, and, day by day, drew nearer to the forest’s edge, until at last the castle came in sight.

“This is it, then?” said Sparrow. “Is my detention over? Am I free to go?”

“Almost,” said Hagrid. “Almost. I need ye t’promise y’won’t go asking any of the teachers about the Statute of Secrecy.”

“Hagrid, I – ”

“Promise?”

“You have my word. Now can I go?”

“I’ll walk ye t’ the edge. Ye’ll see why when we get there.”

At the edge of the forest, where the bushes brushed up against Hagrid’s hut, they stopped. “Right, now,” said Hagrid. “Turn around.”

Sparrow turned.

The bushes had gone. In their place were those birds that looked so much like bushes, the birds with the intelligent eyes, the Rhiannons.

“When I said they kicked out all the underbrush,” said Hagrid, “What I meant was they replaced it all. These are funny birds, Miss Jones, more adaptable than ye’d think, and once the Nark came around they figured out how to disguise themselves as bushes so perfectly that they became plants. That’s where the forest went. That’s some unintended consequences for ye. Keep that in mind.”

Sparrow left for the castle, wondering how on earth she’d survived long enough to reach the Nark plain in the first place.

…

There were things Wizards could do, and things they couldn’t do. What Sparrow could do was notice that very few students were talking to her. Except for the one student who, sitting across from her at the dining table, said “we’re not speaking to you.” So that made things straightforward, if not necessarily clear.

Fortunately, Cormac was still willing to converse with her. And so, a day after Sparrow came back from detention, the two found themselves in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, where Sparrow had been trying to get the woman to relay a new message to Miranda McClivert. But the woman was having none of it.

“I can’t believe this,” said Sparrow. “Even the portraits don’t like me.”

“The rumors have grown pretty wild,” said Cormac. “People are saying you want to break out of Azkaban and free all the prisoners. They’re saying you want to unleash magic on the entire world. They’re saying that you butter your bread on the wrong side.”

“Oh,” said Sparrow. “Everyone does that. And how am I going to break out of Azkaban if I’m not in there in the first place? Although I’d probably get tossed in there if I kept on my current course. No, Cormac, I’m not interested in such a thing. Although I have heard that Jocasta Carrow is dabbling in dark magic.”

“Doesn’t sound surprising. I mean, she is a Slytherin.”

“No, that’s not – dammit.”

“What?”

“I’m trying to spread a nasty rumor about her.”

“And you’re accusing a Slytherin of dabbling in dark magic. Are you going to accuse a Gryfindor of being too bold?”

“Clearly I am not good at this. I’ll have to think of some other revenge.”

“Revenge! From you? Of all people?”

“I am that angry. Yes.”

“What on earth did Jocasta do to you?”

“She – look, if you think you crossed a line, Jocasta dashed over it at a full sprint. I am utterly furious. And I’ve been putting up with her pranks long enough. I will have my satisfaction against her.”

“Are we talking about the line whose details you can’t describe to me until it’s the right time, which hasn’t even come around yet?”

“That one.”

“And you expected Jocasta to know where it was?”

“Well…I mean, she’s a fly on the wall.”

“You’re assuming she eavesdropped.”

“Well…”

“What’s your name?”

“What on earth does that – ”

“Answer the question, please.”

“Sparrow Jones.”

“And your reputation at this school is?”

“A very protective girl, if not very nice.”

“Bingo. And that same girl suddenly wants horrible nasty revenge. Something has gone wrong indeed. What happened to you in the Forbidden Forest?”

“Something that made me decide I wasn’t going to get pushed around anymore.”

“And you want to – what? Permanently harm a young girl by slandering her? What on earth has gotten into you? Oh, for Heaven’s sake – look. Don’t go too far, alright? If you want to respond to Jocasta’s actions, keep your answer proportional. Keep it just and keep it honest. Otherwise…I’d wonder where my good old friend went. I’d wonder if she died in the forest after all.”

Cormac departed without another word.

And Sparrow realized that, as far as she could remember, this was the first time Cormac had ever described her as a good friend. She had called him a friend now and then, but – this was different. How many times now had he tried his best to warn her away from dark paths? Twice? Just like Hagrid.

Good God. What a precious thing she could lose, if she let fury have its way with her. And she had been preparing to give someone else twelve helpings of vitriol. Not anymore.

She departed for the Herbology lesson.

…

There was one student in Herbology who stood out above the rest, having managed to get her Dittany, a notoriously fickle plant, to grow thrice the height of anyone else’s, while keeping it safe from fungus and stem worms as none others had done. This was also the student who seemed to excel in Care of Magical Creatures, and go far beyond her age level in Potions. This was the tall and mighty Miranda McClivert.

Sparrow felt that it stood to reason that a bold potions experimenter would also have the foresight to secure her own ingredients, of the floral and faunal variety. Goodness knew there weren’t enough wild specimens left for the aspiring potioneer. The greenhouses at Hogwarts, accordingly, took up about 1/3 of the grounds and supplied mandrake, dittany, Shrivelfig and Moly, among other ingredients, to the wizarding world. Professor Longbottom, being the Master of the Greenhouses, was in a position to significantly influence the potioneering of the Wizarding World. He did, in fact, take advantage of this position to severely reduce the amount of magical poisons that wizards produced, keeping the necessary plants purely as scientific specimens, in a separate greenhouse locked with enchantments that no student had ever managed to break.

Professor Longbottom was the foremost Herbologist of his age, and Miranda McClivert stood to replace him in that role, or at the very least become his most trusted assistant. In time, if she proved herself, perhaps. Longbottom did not play favorites, and the only time that his expression grew dark was when someone suggested that he was doing so. So, the most that Miranda had as an advantage over her fellow students was that Professor Longbottom had set her up with her own experimental greenhouse set apart from the others, recognizing that a promising talent should not be stifled. In exchange she was graded on a more difficult rubric than the rest of the class, which included the proper maintenance of her greenhouse’s structure.

Such a gift was mighty useful for Miranda, and it was also useful for people who wanted to have private conversations. Miranda’s spells of warding had to be strong to prevent people from sneaking in. Not as strong as Sparrow’s, of course, that was a high bar to clear, but solid. Cormac had described attempting to sneak into the private greenhouse and being shoved violently backward by an unseen force.

So when Sparrow saw Miranda beckon her INTO the private greenhouse, she was taken aback, and wondered for half a second if it wasn’t Jocasta in disguise, playing games again.

Miranda looked annoyed and beckoned again. Sparrow stepped inside.

She had only ever seen this particular greenhouse from the outside, and as it had one opaque wall there wasn’t much chance for anyone outside to see what was going on within. So when Sparrow saw the greenhouse’s interior at last, she had little frame of reference for what she was seeing. Whereas the general-access greenhouses had plants Sparrow knew well, this place had specimens she’d never seen mentioned in any library book. And unlike the usual greenhouse, with plants lined up in orderly rows for easy tending on a mass scale, this place was absolutely crammed – one shelf above another and another, obscured by vegetation hanging down on vines and jutting up on stalks, all laden with tufts and tendrils and shimmering fruits and vicious thorns –

Sparrow felt as though it would be prudent to avoid touching anything, but that was difficult to do in this space, especially since Miranda filled much of it. Sparrow was grateful to be short and slight, or else Miranda might not have invited her in here. She was also not very happy to be short and slight in this circumstance, as she felt even smaller than normal in here compared to Miranda’s towering form.

And Miranda had her sleeves rolled up. Which made it clear that Jocasta had been right about the girl’s physique. Perhaps years of hauling heavy pots had done it. The girl could have the pick of anyone in the school, if she wanted. Yet Sparrow had never heard of her picking anyone. Why, here was the pretty little Sparrow and Miranda wasn’t even paying attention –

She shook her head. Too distracting. Everything in here was distracting. She had forgotten what she intended to say. “Um – ”

“You wish to understand the contents of this place?” said Miranda, as she bent her face to the stem of a plant covered in red berries.

“I’ve never really had a good look. I mean – ”

“This one before me is bird berries.” Miranda pointed to a spiky plant with golden leaves. “Thunderbird feather.” She pointed to a pot full of narrow-bladed tufts. “Bulbous Canarygrass. Among so many. I have set myself so much work. But I must pay attention to these right now, after neglecting them for two days.”

“I’ve never heard of such things.”

“North American plants. Unknown to the Wizards of Britain, or should I say, unknown to its professional circles of potion craft, because none of us cared to look at that continent. I did not need to make any strenuous exhortations to my dear Professor Longbottom to have him agree that we ought to look, but I did need to swear an oath of honor that I would keep any such plants from escaping the greenhouse, and that I would not misuse anything he gave me. Which included this greenhouse. So, there is no student, no person in this school who enters without my permission. And I do not often grant permission, because I have no wish to be distracted.”

“I can imagine.” Sparrow looked around at the multitude of specimens she had never known and could not name. “You have to take care of all these things. Because whatever they do, you’ve got a monopoly on them the way Longbottom has a monopoly on the regular stuff.”

“Ah, well. I don’t consider this as a supply or a monopoly. Not yet. I don’t know everything these plants do! For now all I do is experiment, as I did with the fox potion. Foolish, on my part. I wasn’t utterly certain that I would avoid poisoning myself. But I was so very bored with the curriculum.”

“It was my fault you were revealed,” said Sparrow. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I do not require your apology,” said Miranda. “I think you require mine.”

“For what?”

“Who do you think helped Jocasta frame you?”

“I had a pretty damn good idea, Miss McClivert.” Sparrow let an edge creep into her voice. “There’s no wand magic to transfigure someone’s appearance into another human being, and Jocasta isn’t a Metamorphmagus, nor is she so accomplished at potions that she would have any chance of making Polyjuice. Unless, of course, she was aided by a highly competent potioneer who had no qualms about crafting something difficult and dangerous, and that same potioneer had to be a student in order to keep the whole business secret. Have I got it right?”

Miranda nodded.

“And now you’re putting a dangerous secret in my hands, leaving me at your mercy, perhaps to bind yourself to me. Hm. I’d like to make this situation mutual, but I can’t think of any dangerous secrets of my own to offer.”

Miranda paused in her examination of the Bird Berry plant, and turned to regard Sparrow with a look of disturbed confusion. “I…can’t quite understand where you are coming from, nor where you are going.”

“I’m just saying – crikey, what am I saying?” She shook her head, trying to clear the edge out of her voice. “Never mind. What was the big idea of all this frame-up anyway?”

Miranda sighed, and her shoulders slumped. She rested her back against the shelf. “Call it a matter of pride, that let me be led so easily.”

“Pride in what? Cleverness? Trickery?”

“In potions and herbology. The greatest of all my skills, where my skill with a wand is…lacking. Compared to you.”

“Oh come on, don’t sell youself short like that. Besides which, I’ve only ever been good at defensive spells. I’m terrible with everything else. Didn’t all your dance partners at the Halloween Ball say anything about that?”

Miranda shrugged. “They said you were impossible to defeat and always too eager to stand in their defense. They said your shield was unbreakable. None of them said that it was your only great skill. Ah, well.” She turned back to her work. “I should have considered, for half a moment, that granting someone polyjuice meant they would impersonate someone. But I did not. For I trusted Jocasta, when she said she wanted to be a fox for a time. I put the danger of my actions out of my head, because I trusted her.”

“You trusted _her?_ ”

“I would like to think I can trust most people. And, well, Jocasta flattered me. She lauded my skill with potions, she told me the fox potion was precisely what she needed. True on both counts, I suppose, if critical details were…conveniently neglected. I suppose, when I think of it, that I am so used to polyjuice potion being used in its two-hour version that using it to impersonate someone for a mere ten minutes never crossed my mind! So, after I told her the potion was a failure for only lasting ten minutes – ”

“Is that a failure?” said Sparrow. “Or is it an untapped possibility?”

“That is how she described it. So, she convinced me that it was not a failure. She told me I had done what none had done before, to come up with a polyjuice made cheaply, quickly, for a short duration.”

“She was right. Right?”

“Exactly.” Miranda thumbed through the golden leaves of her Thunderbird Feather plant. “All she said was true. I had never seen one word of mention regarding this topic in any potions text I ever read, not even in the work of Zygmunt Budge himself!”

“Your creativity is one for the history books, then.”

“Oh, please. I have had quite enough of flattery in recent weeks. This whole business was just a matter of pursuing a dormant possibility, as you said. I assume that whoever invented polyjuice in ancient days must have created what I created, in the process of improving the duration. No, I do not need any more flattery.”

“I was thinking of the part where you made it cheap and quick. Isn’t the usual process something to do with moon phases and waiting a month?”

“Ah, yes. I see what you mean.” Miranda had a faraway look in her eyes. “Hm, I wonder if the brewing duration and the effect duration have a direct and linear causal relation…” she shook her head. “File that away for later! The point is, I had not yet come to this conclusion when Jocasta played on my pride. She told me I could do the work again. She told me it would be easy for me, if not for her. That was also true. So, I created the potion once more, told her to find a fox hair, and…didn’t know where I was being led.”

“Did you care?”

“I cared. Because I thought I was being led towards greater praise. I was eager to show the results of my studies to someone. To make something real. Something new. Something interesting. Something to show people besides a teacher, for reasons other than a grade. Something that would be remembered, instead of being marked with an “O” and then shelved forever. I didn’t think I was betraying my solemn oath. I thought I was moving to the practical phase of my career. So I failed to inform the Professor of my distributing the vial, and shattered my honor. And I nearly got you killed.”

Sparrow looked at the plants around the greenhouse, and sighed. “It wasn’t you who nearly got me killed,” said Sparrow. “Only you who helped set me on that path. By pride and by accident. Well.” She shrugged. “Perhaps you ought to research healing potions, for the next time that you want to put someone in danger.”

“First of all, I…am currently researching antidotes but not healing potions, thank you for alerting me to a new area of study. Secondly, please understand that I am sorry.”

“I know you’re sorry. I’m just…trying to offer a solution here. You know? It’s worth knowing how to mitigate any potential disasters, especially if you really can’t handle wand work. If I had to demand anything…I mean I could ask you to be more careful but it looks like you’ve already made that choice. So, like, maybe if you want to show people your work, you use it on yourself so that you never let the vial out of your hands? In the short term. I remember Muggles used to have enough of their doctors around that they could do, like, peer review and stuff. You’re trying to be a Lone Genius here and that only gets you so far. Hell, have you been in contact with _anyone_ at Saint Mungo’s?”

“No.”

“Any professional potion crafter?”

“Not directly.”

“Slughorn?”

“He made me join the slug club instead of giving me detention.”

“Fine! Good! Perfect! Talk to him! Collaborate! Don’t be a flipping Mad Scientist here alright? You were easily led because you were given the chance to stop shutting yourself up. That could have gone really badly if your experiment had terrible physical effects. There’s already enough mortal danger at this castle in the normal course of events. We have a dueling club, for Heaven’s sake. I’m surprised the Hospital wing isn’t eternally busy.”

“We have stairs that change direction at a whim. Compared to that a dueling club is nothing.”

“Stairs aren’t _trying_ to hurt people.”

“Are you sure?”

Sparrow glanced towards the castle. “Maybe.”

“You know,” said Miranda turning to face Sparrow once more, “I would have invited you in here eventually, even if I hadn’t been an unwitting accomplice to reckless endangerment.”

“How’s that?”

“I wanted to apolgize for not speaking to you sooner. The Fat Lady did relay your message but I was too ashamed of the fox fiasco to contact you. If I had, if we had spoken earlier…maybe you would have been able to avoid being impersonated.”

“Perhaps,” said Sparrow. “Jocasta’s a tricky one, you know.”

“And I might have invited you in here anyway even without that sorrow. You, my little bird, have talent and ideas far grander than your miniscule scale.”

“Hey!”

“Nor do you hide any such ideas, nor cease to find new ones. I knew I had to speak with you eventually.”

“Oh,” said Sparrow, “do I have yet another romantic partner in the offering?”

Miranda chuckled. “My answer remains the same. Let that subject live elsewhere! It is not for my greenhouse. I am all business. I like _your_ business. I like the cut of your jib. That is why I let you into my little world. Feel free to speak with me about any matter of your business or mine.”

Sparrow sighed again. “I would appreciate talking to you about potions sometime. You know how I do with those, and I have big ideas for that subject alone. In the meantime I should be…arriving at today’s Herbology class even later than usual. Oh dear.”

“I guess I’ve caused you trouble again,” said Miranda.

“My fault this time.” Sparrow gently extricated herself from the mass of plants, opened the door, and sprinted towards the greenhouse where she was supposed to be.

…

Professor Longbottom had taken a mere five points from Hufflepuff for her tardiness. Jillian Patil had no ability to take house points from anyone, but she did have the ability to prevent Sparrow from leaving her embrace. Not that Sparrow minded staying on her lap, wrapped in her arms, before the Hufflepuff hearth.

“I’m not going to venture that far into the Forbidden Forest again,” said Sparrow.

“Can I guarantee that?” said Jill.

“Maybe,” said Cormac, as he strummed his Ukulele. “From what Sparrow tells me, Hagrid would never put her or anyone through that journey again. But there’s no way to prove the whole thing was a frame-up unless Jocasta confesses.”

“A what now?”

Sparrow glanced at Cormac and shook her head.

“Jocasta did what, exactly?”

Goodness, the hearth fire was heating up all of a sudden.

“Nothing,” said Cormac. “Never mind. No idea what I’m talking about.”

Jill released Sparrow from her embrace and stood up, nearly dumping Sparrow onto the floor. “How convenient,” she said, “that I have Dueling Club in twenty minutes.” She spun around and marched out of the common room before either of her friends could say a word.

Sparrow dashed out of the common room after her, but by the time she got out the door, Jill had already disappeared.

Sparrow dashed back into the common room and grabbed Cormac by the arm. “Come on,” she said. “Up. We’ve got to catch Jill at the Dueling Club and talk her out of vaporizing Jocasta.”

Cormac didn’t need any convincing to follow her.


	12. Retribution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparrow goes further down a dark path, and is saved from reaching its end by the pleas of a friend.

Legend had it that the dueling club had been started by Harry Potter himself, when he knocked Dolores Umbridge tail-over-teakettle into a clump of gorse bushes. Legend had it that the resulting duel had been mighty, but that Umbridge had been at last chased from the castle, shrieking insults all the way and vowing revenge. Legend had it that the students had gathered around Potter and become known as “Dumbledore’s Army”, which was the part Sparrow couldn’t figure out, because it should have been Potter’s Army.

Nevertheless, the school had a dueling club, where it had not possessed one before Potter came along. It was the kind of place where students could take a whack at each other without getting in trouble, so it tended to attract the more valiant and violent types, such as Jillian Patil, Percival Bulstrode, and, of course, Jocasta Carrow.

The club used to hold its exhibition matches in the great hall, having to reserve the space ahead of time, but as a particular disused courtyard had suddenly become nice and warm out of season, everyone had decamped there. It was the sort of place where students felt a little safer watching because it had collonades, which meant people could duck behind a sturdy pillar if need be.

And here was Jocasta, grinning as she faced off against Jill. Which seemed a trifle foolhardy, for Jill’s face showed a rage that Sparrow had not seen in all her years. Sparrow and Cormac had managed to intercept Jill before she stepped out of the collonade and tried to talk her out of aggravated murder. Jill had said she had no intention of doing such a thing. But with the expression she wore now, Sparrow had to wonder if Jill’s restraint would hold. And so did the audience, who were mostly hiding behind sturdy pieces of stonework. After Guillermo Guzmán had lost an ear last year while sitting close to the stage, it was a reasonable precaution.

Jocasta and Jill raised their wands, and bowed to each other.

The duel began with a fireball towards Jocasta’s face. Yet the girl sidestepped it just in time. Likewise a cone of wind she sidestepped like it was nothing. Through Jill’s furious assault, Jocasta weaved like a cat in a crowded hallway.

Sparrow had not paid attention to the dueling club in years, not since Jocasta had broken her shield. The last time Sparrow knew anything about Jocasta’s skill, it was at the level of being more clever than most – this was far beyond that level. Jocasta had as much finesse as Jill had power. Where Sparrow’s shield was absolute, Jocasta’s was placed deftly, never wasting energy on absorbing all of a spell’s effect but deflecting in a way that, if Jill was foolish enough to try a stunner, would bounce the spell back at her.

And that was, in fact, just what happened, though on most occasions Jill had the sense to dodge. But something was different this time. Her wand was moving erratically, always pulling left, and not only left. Towards Sparrow.

In fact – wherever Sparrow stood, Jill’s wand seemed to be pulling directly towards her. Even if she stood way over here –

Jill went down with one of her own stunning spells.

“Tsk tsk,” said Jocasta. She strode down the dueling platform, knelt at the slumbering form of Jill, and cast a reviving charm upon her. The girl opened her eyes.

“You need some more finesse,” said Jocasta. “Perhaps you will learn eventually, and our duels will be even more impressive.” She raised her head to the crowd, who felt safe enough to raise their heads. “Come on, then,” she said. “Bulstrode’s ill today and I already beat Greengrass. Does anyone want to give it a go or is the show over?”

Sparrow stepped out from behind a pillar, and said, “I’m up.”

She came down to where Jocasta and Jill stood. Jill, still recovering from being stunned, was supporting herself on Jocasta’s shoulder. Jocasta passed her off to Sparrow.

“I’m sorry,” said Jill. “All my rage and I still couldn’t avenge you.”

“I think I can avenge myself,” said Sparrow. “I’ve got some advice from Hagrid to test.”

“Are you sure you want to try it?” Jill brushed some dust from her robes. “You’re in for a challenge that you might not be able to handle.”

“I’m sure. And – I’m sorry I distracted your wand.”

“Is that what’s going on?”

“Seems like it. Why did you try the stunning spell anyway? You know those things ricochet.”

“I wanted to overwhelm Jocasta and you told me to hold back. So I had to split the difference.”

Jocasta looked confused. “Is the barrier witch trying to duel?”

Sparrow glared at Jocasta, and nodded.

“Surely that is not your domain, my dear. Our match would be terribly boring, would it not? In fact, I remember you saying yourself last year that it would be pointless. You said, as I recall, that hurling hexes at a stone wall is like playing ‘tennis’ alone. But now you wish to duel. Have you, at long last, learned to cast curses of your own? Have my efforts at last paid off?”

Sparrow stepped up to her end of the dueling platform and raised her wand. “Jocasta Carrow,” she said in a clear voice. “I have been informed by your accomplice that you arranged to frame me, and in so doing sent me into a detention where not only I but Hagrid were both nearly killed.”

Jocasta’s face paled. Such as it could.

“That aspect, at least, could not have been your fault. You had no way of knowing where Hagrid would take me, nor indeed could he have known just how powerful the beasts of the forest were.”

“What did he – ”

“That I am here is owing to Hagrid’s bravery and encouragement of my own abilities, as well as Jill’s encouragement and large repertoire, as well as your own advice regarding the casting of curses, for which I thank you. For the peril I faced, I lay the blame at the feet of everyone, especially everyone who is so concerned about the Statute of Secrecy that it would, by sheer social pressure, and the possibility of overwhelming legal pressure, convince Hagrid to set me a detention that was more drastic than anything I’ve heard of.”

“Where the hell did you _go_?”

“The far reaches of the forbidden forest,” said Sparrow.

The crowd gasped.

Sparrow heard whispers. “Out to the edge!” “Where demonic monsters roam!” “Maybe she can tell us what’s out there!” “She survived the forbidden forest!”

“Oh come off it,” said Sparrow to the crowd. “It wasn’t dangerous until the edge. Besides which, if anyone could survive that kind of place, it would be me, wouldn’t it? Anyway.” She turned to Jocasta. “Miss Carrow, you were the catalyst of this circumstance. You played the greatest prank upon me that you have ever played, perhaps will ever play. Well done.”

Jocasta gave a flourishing bow.

“As such, I cannot say that I hate you.”

Jocasta straightened, and said, “Can you at least cast a hex and get this duel going? I haven’t got all day.”

“No,” said Sparrow, “my wand will not cast a hex again.”

Jocasta looked exasperated. “Was my work all for nothing then? Why are you even here?”

“To express my great frustration with your behavior,” said Sparrow, “and – ”

As one the crowd roared, “Get on with it!”

“ – And to demonstrate that there is far more to an offense than hexes and curses.” She bowed to Jocasta, ducking a jet of red light, straightened up and shouted, “ _LUMINALOS MAXIMA_!”

A blinding white light erupted from Sparrow’s wand. Sparrow had the forewarning to shut her eyes, but the crowd, and especially Jocasta, did not. Thus blinded, she had no chance to brace herself for Sparrow’s next spell. “ _Scutum Percutiens_!”

This particular spell was, as ever a shield – but tilted to an angle of thirty degrees and flying forward as swift as an arrow.

Pureblood wizards, being shut up in their wizarding world, hear of automobiles and do not often understand them. As such, when they hear of someone being run over by a car, they think that the car ran them over, much as many muggles think. But this is not precisely the case. Cars typically run people under. The car’s general wedge shape, if it is going fast enough, combined with the sudden rise in angle of the windshield, serves to toss the unlucky pedestrian high in the air, whereupon they land hard and die, if the impact of the windshield had not already killed them, or die upon the impact of the next car coming along.

Jocasta’s circumstance was slightly different. The shield, despite being tilted at the basic angle of an automobile’s slope, had not the sudden rising angle that a windshield presents, but rather a smooth concave curve from one end to the other. Jocasta was effectively tumbled straight into the air, high enough to present a possible injury when she landed.

And this was what Sparrow counted on. She had noticed that, for all Jocasta had the ability to seemingly vanish by turning into a fly, she had not bothered to do it once during the battle with Jill, despite her opportunities. A fly could be practically invisible when it was moving, and it would have presented her with an immense advantage in terms of battlefield placement and dodging. Yet she had not bothered. Why? Was she intending to show how much better she was than Jill? Did the fly’s fragile form present too much vulnerability? Or did she simply not want to reveal her ability to an assembled crowd?

Here and now, Jocasta could choose between being injured in the fall, or revealing herself to the crowd, or flying out of the duel and effectively surrendering in disgrace. Which would she choose?

She chose injury. She came down hard on her right wrist, and cried aloud in pain.

And that was it. The duel was over.

No one said a word as Jocasta was led off to the hospital wing. They just looked at Sparrow in confusion and fear.

…

The fireplace was just as the three young Wizards had left it, save for the logs burning down. The seat cushion still had an impression where Cormac had sat. His ukulele was still on the table beside. But, even though he took up his instrument, he did not sit down.

“What is the matter?” said Sparrow.

“She could have landed on her head,” said Cormac.

“That…yes. That would have been a worse injury than a broken wrist.”

Cormac glared at Sparrow. “I’ve seen people die from lesser head injuries.”

“You…have seen? As in, right in front of you?”

“Right in front of me. Long story. Not for now. I don’t want to talk to you right now. I don’t know what you’ve become.”

“Cormac – ”

“Bad night all around.” Cormac turned and departed, stomping up the stairs.

Sparrow turned to Jill.

“I will admit,” said Jill, “even I didn’t think you’d go that far.”

“Would you have gone that far?”

Jill sat down in front of the chair. “Oh, I don’t know. If I didn’t know Jocasta so well, if I knew it was a duel to the death, if you’d been gravely injured out there in the forest – maybe. I’d like to think I could hold myself back. But I wonder.”

Sparrow stared into the fire, and said nothing.

Jill stood. “I would wish you good night,” she said. “But the most I can wish is a good rest of your night. Tell you what, have a good tomorrow.”

She turned and departed, making no sound as she ascended the stairs to the Girls Dormitory.


	13. The Yule Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jocasta encounters a most unexpected confession, and Sparrow encounters everyone again.

The second festivity of the year was the Yule Ball.

In years past, a ball at this time of year had chiefly been a feature of the Triwizard Tournament. And indeed, when the tournament was on, every once in a while, the ball was quite spectacular, with not a few different bands invited to perform, and all manner of decorations. The normal December dance was more subdued, with illusory snow falling throughout the hall, and silver candles, and sky-blue draperies, and a nice, sedate chamber orchestra playing somber winter music.

It would have been better if any of the children fully understood what snow was, but Flutwick was hidebound in his own way, and anyway having rain fall throughout the hall would have put quite the damper on things. So, instead of being an accurate representation of the season it was a reminder of what had been lost.

This time around, Jill came along with Cormac and Sparrow to the dance. She danced with Cormac and with Violet for some time, and danced with Sparrow for a little less time. Sparrow felt disappointed to see Jill waltz away, for the girl was wearing a pretty royal blue gown that shimmered in the candle-lights. Sparrow’s sleeveless purple gown could not compare.

Sparrow waited on the sidelines for one of her friends to be available, and, seeing that Cormac was catching her eye, she took the opportunity. This time around they seemed to have a better understanding of who was leading whom, and so their waltz was less awkward than it had been.

At least in a physical sense. For a while, as they moved over the dance floor, neither child spoke. Cormac did not seem eager to meet Sparrow’s eyes, nor was she eager to meet his. And yet, and yet. Here they were.

At last Cormac opened his mouth to speak. But Sparrow got there first. “I have already resolved,” she said, “to apologize to Jocasta.”

“I was just about to ask.”

“Is that why you wished to dance with me after all?”

“Primarily. I – you’re still a friend. You’re still my friend. And I know you’re not usually as violent as all that. So you know. Give friends a chance.”

“I’m sorry for horrifying you,” said Sparrow. “Especially so soon after you warned me about taking revenge.”

“I told you to keep your response to her actions honest and proportional,” said Cormac. “Didn’t try to talk you out of it completely. And you were completely honest that night in the courtyard. We just…had different interpretations of what was proportional.”

“Ah, well. Proportional, maybe. Honest? No. I don’t think I was entirely honest. Now, I assume you wish to dance more with Violet? I must be going to find Jocasta.”

But as she spun away from Cormac, she spun into the arms of Miranda, clad in a suit that shimmered blue and silver. That was pleasant enough for the time being.

And so Miranda McClivert led Sparrow in a slow waltz once more. For a while neither spoke, and Sparrow felt a similar tension as she had felt with Cormac. Two people with a not-completely-resolved conflict between them, somehow managing to dance together, wishing to smooth over such breaks, yet fearing the first words would open the break again.

They spun over the dance floor, and passed by Cormac dancing with Violet. He winked at her. The two spun around so that Violet was facing them. She also winked. Well, nothing for it then.

“How many people have you danced with so far?” said Sparrow.

“Enough,” said Miranda. “Do you wish to hear what they say of you?”

“Don’t tell me you went around asking about me again!”

Miranda laughed. “Oh, no. That was hardly necessary. The whispers are flying, little Sparrow. You could hear them yourself without moving very far, if you wished. But you could just as easily go around to all the people of our little world, and know at last what they wished to say to you.”

“Go around?” said Sparrow. “Like you? But I cannot intimidate people into dancing with me the way you do.”

“Oh no?” said Miranda. “You who managed to toss the unbeatable Jocasta Carrow into the air cannot intimidate people? You who made it to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and back cannot venture to look your fellow students in the eyes? You doubt yourself too much, girl. But, I know what you are referring to. I trade on my height too much, and my fearsome reputation as a mysterious distant figure. And yet, you were very well able to confront me about my transgression, in the middle of my domain, without a trace of hesitation. Do not be so intimidated by your peers. You are the bold Sparrow Jones, are you not?”

“I don’t know,” said Sparrow. “I wonder if I am bold or if I am foolhardy. Maybe I’ll follow your advice eventually. Maybe I’ll do so now. Very well! I must leave you, friend Miranda, and discover the truth for myself.”

“Friend?”

“Friend.” She spun away from Miranda, and, one by one, danced with as many students as she could, inquiring each as to their name, and asking what they thought of her. It was hard to get a consensus, as many of the students did not, in fact, know or care about the girl, and though gratified for the offer of a dance (for many had themselves been standing alone) they were confused as to why Sparrow would ask who they were, for they did not consider that a total stranger would care about them at all.

Still, there were those students who did know of the girl, and many of them, mostly among the first-years, were grateful that there was someone older than them who was looking out for them in the halls, for they had not begun to master defensive spells, nor had they begun to fully understand the culture among the students. And there were also those students, most of them among the sixth and seventh-years, who confirmed what Sparrow had so long been told – that it was somewhat presumptious for a fourth-year to believe that the older students could not defend themselves.

And all of the students who knew of her, even the older ones, were just a little intimidated, for reasons they could not, or would not articulate.

Sparrow had just begun a dance with a second-year student named Melodius Figgle when a familiar pale girl, wearing her customary black gown, appeared beside her, and said, “May I cut in?”

Sparrow apologized to Melodius, and, before Jocasta could say anything further, Sparrow held one of her hands and had the other on her waist. And so they waltzed through the crowd, eyes upon each other.

For a while, neither spoke, and Sparrow felt a great tension as she had twice before – this time, the tension between two people who have greatly wronged each other, and have neither of them mustered the courage to apologize, much less atone.

At last Jocasta spoke. “You have been asking after your reputation directly.”

Sparrow nodded.

“Rather forthright. Arrogant, even. Most people prefer to hear it through a second party.”

“I wonder,” said Sparrow, “if that is why they did not wish to answer fully.”

“If it were only that!” said Jocasta. “If only. No, I think they have good reason to be fearful of you. I think they wonder who you are now. For their great protector, the watchful angel, the girl who values life and peace so much that her wand casts no hexes, has wielded a weapon at last. She has made a weapon out of her own shield. The girl who only wishes to shield people from blows has the heart of a warrior after all. You are now confusing. Unpredictable. _Dangerous_.”

“If my wand approved of my actions,” said Sparrow, “perhaps it believes those actions do not violate my own principles. For my wand follows those principles strictly.”

“You broke my wrist! That’s offensive magic. And don’t tell me otherwise.”

“But it’s not a hex,” said Sparrow.

“Your wand’s principles are by the letter of the law? Well, you sure found the giant loophole. Ow.”

“Indeed,” said Sparrow. She looked up and scanned the room. But Cormac was not visible on the dance floor, not in any view as the two girls spun around. Wait, there he was. Chatting merilly with Violet and Miranda at the punch bowl.

“Are you trying to ignore me in an obvious manner?” said Jocasta.

“Just looking for a friend. Now, related to the matter of injury, I wanted to apologize to you.”

“For knocking me arse over teakettle?”

“Well, I mean. I could have done that to you on the ground instead of throwing you into the air and putting you in a position where you could have landed on your head and died. I’m. Sorry about that.”

Jocasta blinked. “Landing on my head hadn’t even occurred to me. I guess I’m used to getting out of that situation with ease! Careless little me.”

“I could say careless little me too,” said Sparrow. “But careless isn’t what I really want to apologize for.”

Jocasta looked confused. “What are you sorry for, then? What sort of sword are you laying at my feet? Were you intending to defend your beloved?”

“Kind of. I mean, Jill and I aren’t on right now. I’m not sure if or when we will be.”

“You aren’t – oh! Well, ho ho ho! That’s just perfect for – ”

“I wanted to apologize for what I intended.”

“You just told me you were sorry. ”

“I mean the other thing. The whole idea of tossing you into the air was to force you to transfigure yourself in front of everyone. So that everyone would realize you were an Animagus, and then the rumors would spread that you’re unregistered. I wanted to injure your reputation at the school as you had mine.”

“And you’re apologizing for it now? Surely turnabout is fair play.”

“So I thought,” said Sparrow, “but now that I think about it, the Ministry doesn’t like unregistered Animagi, do they? They were remarkably uptight about me using a little magic to grow a tree, I think they’d grind your bones to dust if they knew what you were. And then fine you twenty thousand gold. And then toss you into Azkaban. I might have ruined your wizarding career. Without even having to break the terms of our special arrangement, at least not in strict sense – although I wonder – what manner of pedantic twerp would have agreed that you were to blame for blowing your cover there, and I was not to blame for forcing you into it?”

Jocasta chuckled, then giggled, then laughed.

“What?”

“You!” said Jocasta. “My God, you are _such_ a Hufflepuff! You have this secret evil plan that could put away your sworn adversary forever, and then you regret it, that’s fair enough, we all do that. But then you go straight to them and _apologize for it_? If I tell this story to the people in Slytherin house their heads would explode.”

“From what I’ve read,” said Sparrow, “Helga Hufflepuff valued honesty and loyalty.”

“And Salazar Slytherin valued cunning and ambition. A properly devious person would only apologize if it furthered their ambitions.”

“And you think I’m not doing that right now?”

“What, by being transparent?”

“By being honest. Miranda repaired her relationship with me through honesty. Now I wish to do the same for you. I need you in my good graces, Jocasta, for the months when we can see the full moon.”

“We – oh. Oh. Yes. Ahem. Perhaps you shouldn’t have told me even that much.”

“And more to the point,” said Sparrow, “In such an arrangement I need to be certain that I am holding onto myself. I have been disturbed, of late, to think that I might be adopting a cynical attitude to match yours. That is not who I am. I am a Hufflepuff, honest, loyal and kind, and more to the point, I am Sparrow Jones.”

“How idealistic.”

“Also practical. I keep thinking that if I turn into a flea then I would only think flea thoughts. I would have to be able to hold onto myself then. Might as well get in some practice now. Am I correct?”

“Pretty close to the mark,” said Jocasta. “Now, how can you be certain that I wouldn’t decide to just burn my entire life down and give the whole game away?”

“Because you’re a Slytherin,” said Sparrow. “You value ambition, correct?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Considering my current lack of talents in the area of transfiguration, this task, this journey, is a great ambition of mine. Not the greatest, but close. I am eager to see it through. I believe that Miranda will be eager to aid me on this quest as well, considering the ingredients that the potion requires. More to the point, this was _your_ idea from the start, _your_ ambition, _your_ soul in play. If you were to attempt to foil my ambition, you would foil yours, and gain nothing.”

“Oh, um – ”

“Unless, perhaps, you were the type of person who thought they could only magnify themselves by seeing the people around them fail, or unless you thought my ambition was in the way of yours, such that you accompany me on a great challenge, then betray me at the final moment in order to secure the prize for yourself alone. I have considered such a possibility, and decided that it makes no sense for the current effort, because you’re working towards your goal through me. My achievement _is_ your prize.”

“I see,” said Jocasta. “You’re less naïve than I thought.”

“If you take me down, you go down with me. Not as a matter of each of us blackmailing the other, but as a matter of your own heart breaking.”

“Oh, my dear Sparrow.” Jocasta sighed. “You believe in integrity too much. I have heard many tales of people betraying their closest friends and dearest wishes for the sake of gaining temporal power.”

“And I’m saying you’re not one of those people.”

“Oh,” said Jocasta. “But what if I’ve been lying to you this entire time? What if it was never about teaching you to be an Animagus? What if it’s all an illusion?”

Sparrow looked Jocasta dead in the eye. “That’s not you. You don’t have it in you to be that cruel.”

“You…still trust me? After everything I’ve done?”

“I trust you with this, at least. And I am offering you a chance to atone for your own transgressions. I do detect some regret in your voice.”

Jocasta chuckled. “Let sworn enemies work together, then. I would ask to shake hands on it, but we are already holding hands.”

Sparrow drew her dancing partner close. “My dear Miss Carrow. You have been a vexing adversay. But you are in no way my sworn enemy.”

Jocasta pouted. “But I worked so hard!”

“You tried. You nearly succeeded. Yet through it all, I have known that you were trying to help me. And you were the one who put your secret in my hands to begin with, weeks ago, because you trusted me. I don’t think you ever wanted to be a real enemy. Just annoying. I am sorry that I treated you like a real one at the dueling club, and deliberately risked a violation of your trust. I was…you could see I was furious.”

“I sent you into the Forbidden Forest,” said Jocasta. “I don’t blame you.”

“As if that was all!” said Sparrow. “Then I would have been content to let you look like a fool pounding my shield and getting nowhere. No, I was taking revenge for something few people know about, least of all you. You put me in a position to open an old wound from a time long before we met, from an incident I have never described. I was answering my own pain by giving some of it to you.”

“Terror of…something worse than the Forbidden Forest?”

“Immeasurably worse. What you have done to me this year, what happened to me out there in the wild, none of that compares to what I have already experienced before I came to this school.”

“What did you – ”

“Someday I will place all my trust in you, and you will hear the full story. But only if you set out with me, on the journey you set for me. Not before then.”

“My my,” said Jocasta. “Sealing the bargain by appealing to my curiosity. Very well, my dear, it shall be done. As for me being unregistered – that’s actually an open question. Even I don’t know how to describe it.”

“How the hell do you not know?”

“It’s a strange tale of attempted deceit,” said Jocasta. “You shall hear the full tale only after I am certain that you will set out on your journey.”

“Does that mean I apologized for nothing?”

“Hardly!” Jocasta drew away from Sparrow, and spun around. “You have salvaged your conscience, shored up your soul and strengthened the relationship between us. That’s something. On the other hand, the way you’re going about it…does remind me a bit of my father. All this high-and mighty rhetoric just because you don’t fully trust me.”

“Should I?”

“I’d like you to. It would make a nice contrast to home life. There’s your reason that I won’t betray you. Not because you hold curiosity over my head, not because I value ambition, but because I’m already sick of plotting and conniving.”

“The merry prankster, sick of conniving? Who would have thought.”

“There’s a difference between pranks and what my father does. You don’t know what it’s like to have people try to tear you down deliberately because they think it will hone your skills. Wait. Goddamit. That’s what I did, didn’t I? I’m turning into my father after all. Look – ” She drew close to Sparrow again, pulling her into an embrace, and said softly, “Please. Don’t go down the road my father has done, and don’t let me.”

“The way you joke about things makes it sound like you’re already going down that road.”

“A thin veneer. Please. You value protection. Protect both of us from that dark road. Turn away from what you did to me. Be a soft place to land, always. You have been bold, you have been intimidating far above your stature. Keep in mind that those who seek your protection may also be seeking warmth. Do not forget that. Promise me you won’t forget that.”

“Oh, now you’re talking all dramatic?”

“Promise me.”

Sparrow sighed. “You have my word.”

“Good.” Jocasta backed away. “Good. And if we work together I won’t hit you with any more pranks. Except for one.”

“What would that be?”

Sparrow suddenly felt a curious chill upon the small of her back. She turned. There was an oval of purple fabric on the floor. “Why you – ”

“That old thing was so frumpy,” said Jocasta. “I figured I could improve it. Ta-ta, dearie.” She disappeared into the crowd.


	14. The Aspiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sparrow runs her mouth just a bit too long and a bit too loudly.

There was but a day left before the Christmas break, when students would be going home. Sparrow debated whether she should go, and be with her family, or stay with the castle’s few orphans.

It would be more convenient for her to study the history of magic, if she could do it without anyone walking in on her in the library. And perhaps she could ask the ghosts without being overheard, for once. Yet by the same token, her parents expected her home, and she had not actually made any arrangements with the school to remain over the holidays.

She was torn, and there was less than a day to decide, and she had things to do on this particular day that might land her in trouble with the headmistress anyway. For she had taken Jill’s advice to heart, about thinking of others, and she had taken Hagrid’s advice to heart, about the sheer dangers of the Wizarding world. She had to research, extensively, before acting in any direction.

Hagrid had also said that she could not ask the teachers. But he said nothing about the ghosts, nor, indeed, the headmistress.

So, Sparrow found herself standing outside the statue that barred the way to the Headmistress’ office. What was the password this time? “Potter,” said Sparrow. Nope. “Granger.” Nope. “Weasley.” Nuh-uh. “Fiddlesticks.”

She looked around, hoping to find a teacher who had business with the Headmistress. There was only a cat, with markings around its eyes in the shape of spectacles. “Oh hello Headmistress,” said Sparrow, and turned to the statue. “Where was I? Longbottom. Hagrid. Moody. Wait – ”

The cat meowed, and the statue stepped aside.

“You call that security?” said Sparrow. “Anyone who brings a cat could get in.”

“I am the security,” said McGonogall, as she swept by. “And from what I hear of your capabilities, someday you may be the security for the school.”

She had not beckoned Sparrow to follow, but the girl did so anyway.

McGonogall turned. “What exactly is it that you want?”

“Your own experiences regarding the Statute of Secrecy.”

“Hasn’t Hagrid forbidden that subject for you?”

“It didn’t stop me.”

“Didn’t you have a detention regarding that very subject?”

“Yeah and if anyone had bothered to explain to me why we need the statute I wouldn’t have had to go all the way to the edge of the forbidden forest and nearly get killed. I would appreciate understanding the nature of the statute instead of having to absorb it. And you’re old –”

McGonogall huffed.

“ -- so you have more experience than I do. And I figured that the office of the Headmistress would be a safer place to talk about it than echoing halls. What do you say?”

“I say, what is the magic word?”

“Please?”

“Step into my office.”

…

The office of the headmistress occupied the entire floorspace of the upper part of the tower. Which tower, Sparrow never knew. They tended to shuffle around. Today the view out the tall window was of the mountains.

The office consisted of many, many bookcases, and not for browsing, it seemed, for they were all behind glass. And there were portraits, many portraits. Pictures of the headmasters of the school. Sparrow wondered if they went all the way back to the beginning.

“If it isn’t Sparrow Jones,” said the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. “The girl who keeps sneaking out at night, or so the other paintings tell me.”

“Is that so,” said the Headmistress, taking a book off her shelf. “I recall having to punish some students severely for such behavior. And you’re doing it repeatedly. Shall we test to see if house points can go negative?”

“We could,” said Sparrow. “But it sounds as though Filch hasn’t been telling you and the portraits haven’t told you. It sounds as though you have a discipline problem at this school, and not with me.”

“Ooh,” said the portrait of a young witch with dark hair neatly tied back in a bun. “The attack reflection! She’s got your number, Minerva.”

The Headmistress looked like she was ready to tell someone off, though who, at this point, was difficult to choose. She composed herself, and said, “I shall have to have some choice words with Filch. Now. As for your question, Miss Jones.” She motioned Sparrow to take a seat at a couch near the fireplace. “A few photographs might aid your comprehension.”

Sparrow sat, and McGonogall sat in a chair before her. She opened the book, a weighty tome full of photographs. Some of them, pictures from what appeared to be the 1940s, waved and smiled. There were earlier photographs that were entirely static.

“My mother and father,” said McGonogall, pointing to one where a carousel was going around and around. Sparrow wasn’t sure which people on it were the mother and father, but politely said nothing.

“Mother was a witch,” continued McGonogall, “and Father was not. She married him without telling him. She had me without telling him. But then, once I started summoning toys to my hand, I suppose she had to let the secret out. And what happened after that…it took years for them to reconcile. Father resented Mother for keeping such a secret so large for so long. Mother resented Father for taking so long to marry her, thus preventing her from telling him about magic.”

“I never knew my grandparents, on either side.” She pointed to some of the moving images, which looked like they were from the 1890s. “Mother’s side had disowned her.” She pointed to the static images, from about the same time period. “I was not permitted to know Father’s side. These pictures are the only memory I have of them.” She sighed. “I grew up without much connection to my heritage. A small sacrifice, I suppose, for the sake of upholding the Statute of Secrecy. Father was the only person in his family permitted to know of Mother’s abilities. He was never permitted to know of her world. That’s the law, for the sake of protecting us from muggles. Let the witch hunts never arise again.”

“She couldn’t tell him straight off?”

“Legal precedent is that only spouses are permitted to know.”

“This sounds like it wouldn’t make marriages easy.”

“Decidedly not. Nor does the Ministry of Magic employ any marriage counselors for mixed marriages. That would be giving away too much, you see. Nor would a muggle marriage counselor be able to make any headway. Orford Umbridge once told me that he had tried to seek the aid of one, only for the effort to be completely useless because he couldn’t reveal the precise cause of the conflict. He could let his wife Ellen say that it was a conflict over magic, Oh, that was fine – as long as the spouse said nothing to back her up. There’s the rather nasty loophole – you can say what you want but your spouse can’t save you from sounding like a fool, and that is why the Umbridge marriage fell apart.”

“Did you ever regret this kind of secrecy?”

“After meeting Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington…perhaps.”

“Oh yeah, the nearly-headless guy. I should have asked him earlier, but he seems to favor the Gryffindors, for some reason, so I’ve never really met him. Are you saying he got his head cut off by muggles? How could that even happen?”

“I was without my wand when they caught me,” said the nearly headless Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, as he floated up through the couch, causing Sparrow to jump out of the way. “Which is precisely why I tell students to always have their wands.”

“Really!” said McGonogall. “Startling students like that. How did you even know we were talking about – ” She glanced up at the portrait of Dumbledore. He was missing.

“Discipline problem,” said Sparrow.

McGonogall glared at the girl.

“Sorry. Mr. Porpington, please tell me. Why did muggles decide to cut your head off in the first place?”

“A sad story,” said Nick. “It was at the court of King Henry VII – ”

“The court! Of the King!” said Sparrow. “I thought Wizards were hated and feared!”

“Witches,” said Nick. “Not Wizards. Witches were associated with worship of the Devil. Wizards, ah well. You could get yourself a nice appointment as the king’s Court Astrologer. Many Wizarding fortunes were founded upon such a plum position. Alas, if something went wrong…”

“What happened to make witches get hunted?” said Sparrow.

“Muggle propaganda,” said McGonogall. “Scurillous screeds. Perhaps wizards did not do enough in those years to counteract such lies, in the years when we had the chance to operate more openly.” She raised an eyebrow at Nick.

“I was busy being an astrologer,” said Nick. “I was not appointed for my political opinions, my dear young witch. I imagine the King would have cut my head off for venturing such impudence. Anyway. I met lady Grieve. Ah, lady Grieve, such a beautiful young thing, but her teeth were not straight. I elected to fix them. Alas, alas. My spell misfired and I gave her tusks. I was unable to fix the mistake before I was dragged before the king, tried quickly, and beheaded ineptly. I wonder if anyone ever fixed her teeth.”

“Oh yes,” said McGonogall. “Oh yes. She was a pretty young thing, except her teeth. How old were you when you were killed, Sir?”

“Seventy years. Please, my dear Headmistress, I had no prurient designs upon the lady. I only wished to…fix something that I could.”

“Did you ask her?”

“Erm. No, as a matter of fact, I did not.”

“There you go. And now you can see, Sparrow, why associating with muggles has always been dangerous. No wonder my mother kept her secret for so long. She could not be sure that her husband would attack her, until she knew him well.”

“Now hold on a minute,” said a voice from the wall. The portrait of the young witch looked indigant. “It wasn’t always as dangerous as all that. Why, when I was Headmistress everyone in the entire isle was doing magic.”

Sparrow looked at the nameplate on the woman’s frame. Maud McKinnon, AD 999-1035, Headmistress 1034-1035.

“Everyone?” said Sparrow. Her face brightened.

“Magic was a thing everyone tried,” said Maud. “Only, there were few who actually had the talent, and the rest were reciting things that would never work for them. We trained the talented ones. It wasn’t until the whole row with Slytherin leaving the castle that we began to make a significant distinction between muggles and wizards. Muggles themselves didn’t stop trying to do magic in my lifetime. I’m not sure if they ever did, until…well I wouldn’t know. Nick here makes it sound like it was still common for them to try in his day.”

“It was!” said Nick. “As I traipsed through muggle society I had the opportunity to read many of their texts for summoning demons and preparing spells of invisibility. I laughed at it all, for it was a lot of overcomplicated nonsense. One wonders when they left off that rubbish and turned towards…whatever it is they do now.”

“Discover their own secrets of the world,” said Sparrow, “and build bombs that can obliterate an entire countryside in an instant.”

There was a gasp, as of a hundred voices. Sparrow looked up. All the portraits she could see were staring at her now in rapt wonder and fear.

“That’s impossible,” said Nick.

“That’s insane,” said Maud.

“That was the state of their world,” said Dumbledore, “although from what last I heard, they’d tacitly agreed never to use them.”

“And always live on the knife’s edge,” said McGonogall. “I read muggle newspapers, you know. They were always on about Mutually Assured Destruction.”

“They have their own magic,” said Sparrow, “and it is hard, and cruel. I know you’re all worried about me revealing Wizards to the world. After what Cormac told me about their weapons, I can tell you for certain that I have no interest in trying to somehow let the Wizarding world live openly alongside such proven danger. And yet, I burn. I want so badly to be able to share the wonders of our world. Imagine if the muggles knew ghosts existed! So many religious questions would finally be answered! Imagine if children knew there were unicorns! They would grow up more fascinated with the wide world, because they would never have to tell themselves the lie that there is no magic. And yet, they can never know.”

“They can’t do magic,” said McGonogall. “They would never be able to do more than look, and be jealous, and angry, and scared.”

“And that is resolutely unfair,” said Sparrow. “Imagine if the whole world had magic. Imagine if everyone could fly on carpets and brooms and mortars instead of running around in smoke-belching metal beasts. They never would have had to invent their bombs. They never would have had to invent their furnaces that poisoned the air until the world was left a dessicated ruin. And nobody, in all of Wizarding, ever figured out how to bring magic to the muggles. Did you even bother?”

She looked up to the paintings. There were people in them, now, besides the headmasters. There was the Fat Lady, there was Sir Cadogan. Perhaps all the portraits in the castle were gathered around her now. Ghosts of all kinds hovered where they would not block the view.

“We never bothered,” said Sir Cadogan, “Because it’s impossible.”

“Tell me that for certain!” shouted Sparrow. “Tell me that any of you, at any point in the entire history of magic, tried to figure out how to give muggles the gift! Tell me that you tried and failed!”

The portraits mumbled between themselves, but nobody answered.

“And what do you think would have happened if that had been achieved?” said McGonogall.

“There would have been no pureblood bullshit,” said Sparrow. “Perhaps Salazar Slytherin would never have left. Perhaps there would have been no witch hunts. And Tom Riddle would have grown up to be Tom Riddle, not Lord Voldemort.”

There was a gasp, as of a thousand voices, and the crowd murmured.

“And I shall tell you what else,” said McGonogall. “For, as Harry Potter once told me, he had impressed a Goblin by bothering to dig a grave with a shovel instead of using a wand. As for me, I wash my dishes by hand, when I have a mind, in memory of my father. There is something to be said for doing things the hard way, every once in a while, and I am less than impressed with wizards who wave a wand to do everything. Imagine if all of humanity had only to wave a wand to do anything. We would be indolent, fragile. And, perhaps, as hidebound as Wizards are now. What I know of Muggles indicates that they have uncovered secrets of the universe that Wizards do not know. If everyone was magic, would those secrets have been uncovered at all? Would the basic principles of motion in space be understood? Would we know how large the universe is? Most wizards don’t. I have lost count of the number of times that a pureblood wizard from one of the old families has told me that there are only four elements. There are ways, my dear Miss Jones, in which we’re a pack of idiots. Would you wish that upon the entire world?”

“I would,” said Sparrow, “if it meant that the world as you knew it could have survived. But it didn’t, did it? There’s little left of the wild green, now.”

“You are trying to be kind,” said McGonogall. “Yet in your kindness you may do things that threaten the world. I am sorry that Hagrid forbade you this topic before I could help you understand it, such that you have been burning for so long. Please.” She put her hand on Sparrow’s. “Remember what I told you at the beginning of the school year. You cannot change someone’s life for them. Only they can change their own life. I could force an end to this business with magic, but only you can convince yourself that it might be wrong. And I can tell you that trying to do what you wish, without consulting anyone, will lead you to Sir Mimsy-Porpington’s end, and that is if you’re lucky. If not, many would suffer the same fate, even many people you love.”

“I already lost some of the people I loved,” said Sparrow. “Because they could not protect themselves. If they had possessed my abilities, they might have been saved.”

“Is that what this comes down to?” said McGonogall. “Grief propelling you into madness? Many dark wizards have taken the same path.”

“Does this school have counselors of any kind?”

“I usually handle that business.”

“So, nothing professional.”

“Once long ago,” said Nick, “the students told each other that every dark wizard had arisen from the house of Slytherin. I cannot say from my long experience if that has been true. Yet, it is true that nearly every British wizard of the past thousand years has come through our halls, not one of them receiving anything like professional mental care. One wonders if the students who turned to darkness would have taken such paths, if they had been consoled in time.”

“I’m not a dark wizard!” said Sparrow. “I can’t even cast those kind of spells. My wand doesn’t even want to. I’m trying to save people from evil, as I was unable to do years ago.”

“So it seems,” said McGonogall. “You would not spread darkness over the land, yet you would shine like the sun. Yet if you shine like the sun, your light may well burn the world to ash, as the real sun has nearly done to the world of muggles.”

“Oh, touché.”

“I should certainly hope so,” said McGonagall. “I should certaintly hope that I have touched your heart well enough to warn you away from a path of destruction. I wonder if I have. Sometimes I do speak to children who plan to do terrible things in the name of good, like you, and I am able to reassure them that the world is not so terrible as to merit their wrath. Young Rodolphus Carrow would have burned his family’s house down if we had not had the chance to converse. Other times, they refuse to listen, and I can’t understand why, because I am being perfectly reasonable. That was the fate of young Antonio Bolu, who said he would try to apparate across the sea, despite all my warnings, and he was never seen again. Perhaps some ambitions are too great to discourage, and they consume their bearers. I fear that this will be your fate. It would be a tragedy to see someone of your skill and your compassion come to the same end as a Wizard like Grindelwald.”

Sparrow frowned. “Does the Wizarding World have professional counselors anywhere?”

“Professional in what sense?”

“I mean like, have they gone through training to practice proper therapy. Have they got a license to provide counsel. Is there a board of people at Saint Mungo’s or wherever that certifies people to do mental health care on a professional basis.”

“I have not heard of such a thing. Not from the Wizarding World.”

Sparrow sighed. “Problem number one, I suppose. Problem two is what my Father always tells me – just like what you said. You can’t change someone’s life for them, and you can’t give mental health care to someone who refuses it. They have to choose to change. I think the more stubborn children you’ve spoken to decided not to listen to you, and sealed their own fate. You hoped that being reasonable would change them, but in the end the choice came down to them.”

“As it does to you,” said Nick. “What have you chosen?”

“I am willing to be less hasty and more circumspect, at the very least.”

Nick did not look pleased with this answer. “I had hoped you would be willing to give up this mad quest entirely.”

“Is it mad?” said McGonagall. “Madly done, if not guided properly, but mad in itself? I cannot say. I have given you what warning I can, child, and that is all I can do. Goodness! I go to far as it is. I, the Headmistress of this school, endorsing criminal behavior? Such a thing is not done!” She winked. “Now let us say that we shall have no more talk of your mad ambitions. I am officially forbidding the topic of violating the International Statute of Secrecy.” She winked again. “You are forbidden to discuss the subject with students or professors.” Wink.

“Something in your eye?”

“It’s dreadful, I can’t seem to get it out. Oh, and feel free to speak to me any time you wish, about what troubles you. I would hear more about what happened to your friends.”

“Bad memories.”

The headmistress put her hand on Sparrow’s. “Tell me if you wish, when you wish. Not before then.”

“Perhaps when the moon is full,” said Sparrow.

“And I will admit,” said the Headmistress, gazing up at the portraits, “our world does have its manifest cruelties. You ought to talk to Argus Filch about his life as a squib.”

“A what?”

…

“Miss Jones,” said Filch, floating in the moonlight. “I told you there would be consequences if you tried this again.”

“I’m not here to sneak past you,” said Sparrow. “I’m here for you.”

Filch’s expression froze. He blinked. “Me?”

“I wanted to ask you about what your life was like as a squib.”

For the first time in a long time, Filch’s face softened. It was entirely possible that nobody had ever asked him this question before. “Well, erm…I mean…” He squinted. “Did you lose a bet or something? Are you planning to ask me a personal question and blab about it to the whole school? I bet that’s what this is.”

“I just want to know,” said Sparrow.

“Oh yeah? Why?”

“Well, I figure if I know why people are born as squibs, then I can have an idea of how to make muggles into Wizards.”

“Oh I see,” said Filch. “You’re not here for me. You’re here for your mad plan. Well forget it. I’m not telling you anything.”

“Please?”

“I have never,” said Filch, “Ever, in my entire life, yielded to a student who said ‘please.’ So run along.”

…

The train ride to London was largely uneventful, in the sense that there was no possibility of it having anything that could be called an event, because nobody in the entire student body wanted to sit in a compartment with her. Some of them started to, but then they realized who they were about to sit near, muttered implausible excuses, and fled. The train ride was thus spent by staring out the window at the passage of dull grey countryside.

It was not until near the end of the journey that Violet Brown deigned to enter her compartment.

“I’m sorry for not getting to you sooner,” said Violet, as she sat down on the opposite bench. “I was taking a survey. Let’s see…” She fished a paper out of her pocket and unfolded it. “61 percent of the student body thinks you’re barking mad, thirty percent believes you’re an idiot, five percent believe you’ve been possessed by Peeves, two point nine seven percent think you’re a muggle spy, and one percent want the Ministry of Magic to arrest you immediately. Zero point zero three percent are of the opinion that you are on to something interesting, and wish to see where this is all going.”

“Good heavens,” said Sparrow. “There is a storm between my light and the gentle earth.”

“How’s that?”

“Never mind. I’m interested in that last bit. Who is it?”

“Me,” said Violet. “And Cormac. Jill’s on the fence.”

“Oh,” said Sparrow. “I would have expected you, with your exhausting knowledge, to tell me that I had no chance.”

“Please. This is a topic that I’ve never even heard of. How could I resist looking into it? And Cormac’s interest is piqued because he wants to get into the nature of magic itself. Something to do with Wandlore, I’ll be bound. And Jill is torn because she thinks she isn’t supposed to totally disavow you. Something to do with her wand. Oh, and she loves you.”

“I knew that much. But she didn’t want to be with me in the train car? Nor Cormac?”

“There is such a thing as keeping up appearances for the sake of staying safe,” said Violet. “I’m only getting away with talking to you right now because everyone thinks I’m here to make fun of you. So, I am giving you a directive. Don’t contact any of us over the holidays. It might look suspicious. Wait until we’re back at the castle when we have plenty of secret passages to use.”

The train stopped.

“Got to go,” said Violet. “Remember. Until the holidays are over, you never heard of me.”

Sparrow pouted. “But I like you.”

“Officially, you don’t. Ta ta.” She left the compartment, joining the mass of students shuffling through the corridors.

As Sparrow brought her bags down and waited for the line of students to end, she wondered about Violet’s admonition. What did she mean about looking suspicious? Did the ministry consider her a threat already?

Sparrow departed the train and, stepping out of the barrier between Platform 19 ¾ and Queen’s Cross, greeted her parents with a look of pity in her eyes. They would never have the chance to see her school, nor her world, not as long as the Ministry stood there like a menacing door guard. She embraced them, and wondered if she already got in over her head.


	15. Listen to Your Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sparrow's family gets her to understand that doing good things for people without consulting them is not really doing good things for them.

The greater portion of the city of London was on stilts in the shallows, such as had been constructed by the acting muggle government at one point, though the houses atop them had not. Those were rather ramshackle, being left to the devices of the inhabitants, and were composed primarily of debris from the wreckage of the old city, assorted driftwood, and the cast-off building materials scavenged from the worksites of new houses. These were more difficult to come by lately. There was little enough of the quality material to go around these days, and those who commanded money and power guarded their building materials more jealously than in previous decades.

The stilts had been the creation of the previous acting government, yet this government had cared more for building new things than maintaining them, and the new regime could not be said to be interested in the well-being of anyone who didn’t have Connections.

Likewise the greenhouses also went to rust, on occasion, especially in those areas that were designated as staple crops for the poor.

Yet neither they nor the stilts ever fell, for reasons no muggle understood.

Sparrow berated herself for ever believing she ought to waste a winter holiday break at Hogwarts. There was much in this city that needed her. If she had to wade into chill water to make sure that the citizens could stay safe and dry, so be it. She had enough time in these two weeks to see to the most urgent columns.

She had not expected to see a figure in the shadows, down here in the filthy water. Who in their right mind would be waiting for anyone under the platforms? Perhaps a clandestine meeting? Perhaps something she should not be involved in. They could not harm her, not as long as she had her wand. Could they even see her? But she could see them, well enough.

The shadowy figure extended their hand and shouted, “Stupefy!”

Sparrow’s shield was up before she had even drawn her wand.

“So,” said the voice of an adult man, “it is Sparrow Jones after all. Greetings, Sparrow.” He bowed. “You’re already on watch with the Improper Use of Magic office. I assume you’re here to give them more evidence against you?”

“I am here to fix the columns, such as nobody else seems to bother doing,” said Sparrow. “And if the Improper Use of magic office isn’t going to come straight out and arrest me, or even warn me, I should think they’re being much too coy about enforcing the law. I should think they are waiting to bring the hammer down later, just to be cruel. What’s it to you, anyway? Who are you?”

“Lumos.”

The figure’s face was revealed. A man in his mid thirties, it seemed, with reddish hair, worn slightly long and quite messy. He had sharp features, and his eyes were not very kind.

“I’m sorry,” said Sparrow, “I still don’t know who you are.”

“Albus,” said the man. “Albus Severus.”

“Okay…”

“Potter. Albus Severus Potter. Come on, you know me. Everybody knows me.”

“Well I mean. Harry Potter had a family. I just ever paid attention to who was who. Was I supposed to?”

Albus looked extremely put out. “I thought my time at school would have been remembered. I was the one who won the famous duel against Blaise Brown.”

“You have a long way to go if you want to match your father’s renown,” said Sparrow. “And I have the distinct impression that when it comes to renown, I just blew you out of the water by accident. I’m terribly sorry.”

Now the man’s face was beginning to match the color of his hair. “Never mind!” He said. “I’m with the Improper Use of Magic office and I’m issuing a warning. You are not to go around using magic outside of school. No more sneaking around down here fixing things.”

“But – Mr. Potter. If I don’t help these people, they’ll be in the drink, soon enough.”

“That’s not your concern,” said Albus. “It should never have been your concern in the first place. There’s a time and place for magic and this is not it.”

“They need me!” said Sparrow. “They need _someone_ , for God’s sake! The most they get from the muggle government is a hearty ho-hum!”

“I’m not going to warn you again,” said Albus. “If you’re caught doing magic outside of school you’re going to face actual discipline for once. You could be expelled.”

“And why,” said Sparrow, “Have I not been arrested already, if the office has evidence against me? Why have I not been issued a warning?”

“They were planning to,” said Albus. “The office has your number, girl. But given your recent exhortations, they think you’re a blithering idiot, and not quite as much of a threat. They sent me here to give you one last chance, and to assess your mental state. You sound sane enough to me.”

“I don’t think it’s at all stupid to wonder why Wizards have magic and Muggles don’t,” said Sparrow. “Nor is it dangerous to research the question.”

“Oh sure,” said Albus. “And it wasn’t dangerous to make steam engines, either, until the entire world ecosystem went tits up. Well, I’ve got all I needed to know. Go home and live without magic for a couple weeks.”

The man vanished.

…

“You may have been doing them a disservice,” said Mother, as the family sat around the table. There was Father, a man with more lines on his face than his age would suggest; there was Mother, a woman with more grey hair than her age would suggest; there was Robin, a girl of ten who had no qualms about floating the chickpea bowl over to her plate; there was Finch, a boy of six who was not yet skilled enough to effectively resist Robin’s commandeering of the bowl. It wobbled dangerously. Father glared at both of them, and Robin set the bowl down with her own two hands.

“I don’t see how that’s possible,” said Sparrow. “Those columns are made of wood. They rot all the time. If I didn’t fix them – ”

“Someone would end up in the drink,” said Father, “and they would all remember they had to maintain their platforms.”

“With what resources?”

“Driftwood. Before you ask, yes, that is what they’ve always used.”

“And do they build the nails out of driftwood as well?”

“Pegs. Yes. Easier to replace than nails. What I’m saying is, if they knew there was a mysterious miracle upholding their work, they might begin to rely on it, and if you wanted to be honest about what you were doing they would almost certainly come to rely on you, and you could never live anywhere but London because you always had to shore up the timbers. Do you want that?”

Sparrow huffed. “Maybe if they could all do magic then they wouldn’t need me.”

“I don’t know,” said Mother. “Considering what I’ve had to put up with in this house, I’d just as soon nobody had any magic.”

All three children gasped in offended shock.

Mother winked. “But then the world would have even less color than it does now, I suppose.”

“Why don’t they have magic?” said Robin. “Mum, why can’t you do magic?”

“I wasn’t born with the gift,” said Mother.

“That’s not fair.”

“Yeah,” said Finch. “That’s not fair. Everyone should have magic. It’s fun.”

Mother and Father gave each other a look. Sparrow knew that look. It said _quick, do something._

“I have the feeling,” said Mother, “that children are keenly aware of what is and isn’t fair, sometimes moreso than adults.”

“Yeah!” said Sparrow.

“However,” said Mother, “sometimes when children say something should be fair, what they mean is that things should be unfair in their favor.” She gave Sparrow a searching look.

“I don’t see how I’m trying to be unfair in my favor,” said Sparrow. “I’m trying to reduce the elitist exclusivity of Wizards.”

“And yet magic does not seem to allow electricity to exist in its midst,” said Mother.

“Our lights work perfectly fine, don’t they?”

“Except when you get near them. I can tell you’re coming when the light flickers.”

“Oh, touché.”

“I can turn on a light just fine!” said Robin.

“Maybe you’re not as powerful as me,” said Sparrow with a grin.

“Oh yes I am!”

“Oh no you’re not.”

“Oh knock it off,” said Father.

“If you gave the whole world magic all at once right now,” said Mother, “and there was so much magic that all the electricity disappeared, what would all the children say who were no longer able to watch their television shows?”

“Um. Hadn’t thought of that.”

“What would all the muggle scientists say when they were no longer able to use their wondrous optical machines and atom-crackers?”

“They would be angry.”

“And what of all the hospital nurses whose machines for keeping people alive stopped working?”

“They would be very angry.”

“Well then.”

“Do I have to give up my plans then?”

“I’m not saying that,” said Mother.

“You’re not?” said Father.

“No. What I’m saying, Sparrow, is if you are going to let the whole world have magic, I suggest you be gentle and slow, and ideally you let the people receiving your wondrous gift be involved in the process. Lord knows there have been too many good things ruined by people who thought they knew what other people needed, without ever asking them.”

“The Headmistress told me about that. But how often does that actually happen?”

“One of my ancestors in Senegal,” said Father, “had that sort of thing happen to her with the Peace Corps. They came in and built her village a school. The only problem was, they built the school. The villagers did not. So the whole thing lapsed after a while because nobody really cared about it. If the village had known they wanted a school, and asked for a little bit of help FROM the Peace Corps, then it might have gone better.”

“Okay, but that’s only one – ”

“I’ll give you another example. I had another ancestor in Mozambique that opened a shoe shop. Only, he did it right before people from the United States started donating old shoes to Africa. Free shoes versus not-free shoes – ”

“Sounds like no contest.”

“Indeed not. His shop was ruined, and that branch of my family tree remained poor for longer than it should have. I’ll give you another good example. My grandfather managed to survive the Ethiopian Famine in the 1980s – ”

“Are all your examples from Africa?”

“Yes,” said Father and Mother at the same time.

“Why would – ”

“Lots of well-meaning people,” said Father. “Now, my grandfather survived by...doing things I won’t mention. And supposedly there was this big concert in the United States that raised all kinds of money to solve the problem, and got all kinds of resources, and sent it to Ethiopia. And my grandfather says he never saw it. Why? Because the warlords stole it all. The folks from the US dumped it all on Ethiopia without bothering to figure out where exactly it would go, or pick trustworthy distributors, or protect it in any way. So.” He harrumphed. “Now you know what happens when you go around deciding what people need, instead of supporting the efforts that they’re already making. Genies and fairy Godmothers grant the wishes people ask for, not the ones they think their recipients need.”

“And what would muggles ask for, dear Father?”

“Predictable weather. More gentle rain in the summer, less in the winter. More trees and less heat. More fertile soil. That sort of thing.”

“And what do you think muggle children would ask for?”

“More candy and later bedtimes, I expect.”

“And?”

“You sound like you have something in mind.”

“They’d ask for magic! Every damn one of them! They’re already asking for it! My old friends used to make up stories with magic all the time. Because all the books kids read have wizards and witches and fairies and dragons, and then they have to grow up with the complete lie that those things don’t exist! I think they are very well primed to accept what I’d be offering.”

Mother put a hand on Sparrow’s shoulder. “Child. Remember the first magic you did. You saw the wonder and the terror of it in the same moment, at much too early an age. Would you visit that upon others?”

“At least I had the chance to see the wonder,” said Sparrow. “Unlike all my friends. Their ignorance didn’t save them. And it doesn’t save anyone else. I hear stuff about how the Ministry has to have people go around all the time cleaning up messes made by magical beasts, using memory charms on everyone.”

“And do you think the parents of these children would appreciate knowing that they couldn’t control their children anymore?”

“They’re going to have to learn that at some point, right? At some point you have to let your kid go.”

“I’m learning it right now,” said Father.

“There is something else to consider as well,” said Mother. “Giving magic to the whole world, well, it might end the purpose of the Ministry of Magic, wouldn’t it? Or at least upend it.”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing it upended,” said Father. He and Mother shared a look between them, a look that was quite different than their usual genteel detachment.

Robin looked from Father to Mother, her face wondering and worried. “Why?” she said.

Father closed his eyes and sighed. “A story for when you are older, child, and entering school. Not now. Now, let us simply be thankful that we have each other.”

And the rest of the meal passed in tense silence.

…

The house of the Joneses was nice. It was not fancy, but it was nice. Mother had made plenty of Connections. And she had managed to get her family an allotment for a nice house on a private lot, in far fewer years than it normally took. And the family had enough to purchase Christmas gifts.

Sparrow did not know what to think of Christmas gifts. They were nice toys, and all, but compared to the thousand wonders of the Wizarding world they tended to pale in comparison. Especially the electric toys. It had taken her parents a few years to realize why those never worked for her. The sort of gift Sparrow usually appreciated was tubes of paint. Not simply because of their rarity. You could do magic to wash the dishes, you could do magic to take out the garbage, you could do magic to keep mice out of the house, mow the lawn, shine your shoes, tidy a room. And a wand could make a brush move. But it couldn’t come up with the idea of where to move it. That was the job of the artist.

Perhaps, in paint, there was a point of connection between muggles and wizards. A place where they had even footing. Then again, Wizard art tended to move, so maybe that wasn’t a fair competition after all. Then again, she enjoyed Muggle paintings more because the damned things stayed put.

What Sparrow most appreciated, though, was her siblings. Because their constant use of underage magic made it impossible for the Ministry to detect when she was using magic inside the house. That might not work once they were also in school, but for now she was able to get away with a lot. It’s good to be the eldest child.

So, on Christmas morning when it was time for the children to open their presents, and all the family sat around, each with their box in their lap, Sparrow elected to open hers with a magical flourish. She waved her hand. _Rip_!

She discovered to her dismay that the gift was a stack of comics from decades ago, and she had torn the cover of the top one. Father looked indignant, and her siblings giggled.

“Never mind,” said Father. “Never mind. The story is more important. It’s not like the whole idea of selling them in mint condition for lots of money ever made sense, and even less so now.”

Robin got the tube of paint this time. Red paint. Finch got a Superball, a muggle toy that had been made circa 1991. Mother gave Father a Look. He shrugged.

Sparrow said her thanks, and silently wished a little blessing of priceless-object-avoidance upon the Superball. She had no idea if that had ever worked but what she was really wishing that that her wand (which was always on her person, of course) would figure it out for her. It was a spell of protection, after all. Then she picked up her comics, gingerly, and took them upstairs to read. She flopped down on the bed and opened one.

Superhero comics.

Seemed a bit redundant, these days. She’d already become a superhero. Reading about them was kind of like reading about her own life, only these people were adults who liked to beat people up in the name of Fighting Crime. Seemed like the kind of thing that was more in line with Jill’s style. And look at this! They went around blowing things up and cracking the street and rescuing cats from trees and thumbing their noses at police officers, and all without a by-your-leave, operating as if there were nothing in their world that even resembled the Ministry of Magic.

Sort of like Sparrow fixing support columns and greenhouse roofs without asking.

But what she did, what she wanted to do, was constructive, supportive, and defensive. These louts were largely destructive. Sparrow didn’t buy it for a second when the text said the falling building was abandoned. The one it crashed into surely wasn’t. Really, the utter nerve of these people.

Sort of like her deciding the entire structure of Wizarding life had to be swept away.

But the structure of Wizarding life was confining, distorting, warping. It had done terrible things to the Headmistress’ parents, and it was stifling her at home. Perhaps it needed to go.

How that was to be achieved, Sparrow did not know. She had to be considerate, to be thoughtful of others, as Jill had stipulated. She had to take their opinions into account, and in general give them the things they already wanted, as her Father had stipulated. Including muggles. But that would require talking to muggles about the situation, outside of her family, which would violate the Statute of Secrecy, no two ways about it. To make it clear to muggles beyond a shadow of a doubt that what they hoped for was real. And that was what the Statute of Secrecy was supposed to prevent.

What an awful confinement, that could not be ended gently without incurring the wrath of her confiners. Then again, such people would never let confinement end gently in the first place, would they? Not if their galleons depended on it.

And yet. There was, it seemed, one avenue to which the Ministry was totally blind, the way guards of a perimeter assume that nobody will come through through the nasty thorn bushes, or the way the French assumed the Germans couldn’t get through the Ardennes forest. From what Sparrow had heard Jocasta tell her, the Ministry had no real understanding of how many unregistered animagi existed, because they assumed nobody was stupid enough to attempt the process without openly seeking aid from qualified professionals. So that path was totally unguarded, except by its own mortal peril.

If Sparrow could achieve this goal, such a thing would prove very useful indeed.

Time to take the first step.


	16. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sparrow Jones and her friends hatch a nefarious plot to save humanity, and Sparrow loses an enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, I have no idea what I'm doing. And this is the part where I REALLY don't know what I'm doing. So feel free to let me know if my treatment of polyamory is unrealistic.

The train ride was again uneventful. Even Violet did not visit her compartment. The landscape of grey mud and rain slid by.

Sparrow wondered if it was going to be possible to speak to Jocasta now that she was notorious.

…

The answer was no. In the week that followed Sparrow’s re-arrival at the castle the Carrow girl never spoke to her once nor communicated any desire to do so. She tended to leave halls that Sparrow entered, along with other students who didn’t want to be in the company of a raging madwoman.

Nor did any of the students speak to her of any matter that was not academic. It was not exactly the silent treatment, but the message was clear anyway.

There were, however, two people who were, from the start, unafraid to show open interest in her goal.

One was Professor Slughorn, who, being quite the Slytherin, felt it invigorating that someone had ambitions beyond what even he dreamed of. “Give it a shot,” he said. “I would love to see what you could come up with.” But he said little more to her, not even offering to invite her to the Slug Club.

So Slughorn wasn’t directly useful. But. Nobody in the school administration was stopping him from expressing his open support. Nor were they attempting to stop her. Either the Ministry was still preparing to send a Howler to the Headmistress’ office, or McGonogall was making good on her tacit offer of support. That was promising.

The other one who showed interest in her goal was Tim, the Librarian.

“Finally lost interest in that werewolf business,” said Tim, “and thank goodness. I can try to help you find what information you’re looking for.” Sparrow judiciously neglected to tell Tim that she hadn’t forgot the werewolf matter completely. It would be better to have him on her side.

And so Sparrow spent her days in the library, reading of the beginnings of magic itself, or its supposed beginnings, with stories like the man who summoned a giant patronus. Useless, really. Even the earliest texts had wizards acting as the stuck-up prats they always were. If history wouldn’t help, then perhaps the magical equivalent of Physics would. There was, or had been such a section, on experimental charms. Where had all the books gone?

Ted regretfully informed her that most of those texts had been removed to the Ministry. He practically snarled when he said it.

Oh, yes, of course. Violet had pitched a very loud fit about something involving the Ministry in their second year of school. Sparrow had been afraid to ask Violet what she had been on about. This must have been it.

She shifted her focus to the advanced potions section. There were a few books in the library that Zygmunt Budge had made good use of, back in his day. Ted would only let her read them by carefully flipping the pages for her, with magic. Here was a dissertation on the effect of moonlight in healing potions. There was a study of how vigorously and how long to stir a cauldron. All empirical business, none theoretical. Where was the theoretical material for potions?

Also removed to the Ministry.

This did not make the Ministry look any better than it already did.

And where was the book of bibliographic references for Granger’s Advanced Potions? Still missing. And Tim would not tell her who had it out. He had his professional sntandards to maintain.

One January morning, Sparrow had her head down on the table in frustration. She had spent the better part of an hour trying to get through an extremely dry treatise on Silverbeetle Shell powder, hoping to glean something from it about the basic nature of potioncraft. She now had a headache.

Someone grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away from the table, and into the secret alcove behind the bust of Saint Snerd.

It was, of all people, Jocasta Carrow.

Who proceeded to pin Sparrow against a wall and get right up in her face.

“This is very rude,” said Sparrow. “Uncouth. Discourteous.”

“Don’t you dare,” said Jocasta, shoving Sparrow a bit harder against the wall. “Don’t you dare get cute with me after you threaten to destroy my world.”

“Aren’t I already cute?”

“Well yeah but…shut up.” Jocasta’s face got noticeably pinker.

“I’m not trying to destroy your world,” said Sparrow. “I’m just – ”

“Shut up! Just – shut! Up! ” Jocasta put her face even closer. “And let me show you what you’re going to lose.”

“I don’t understand what you’re – mmph!” Sparrow’s words were cut off as Jocasta kissed her hard on the mouth.

When she was at last released from the kiss, Sparrow said, “I have half a mind to call that sexual assault. What the hell are you playing at?”

“I – I – ” Jocasta blushed. “God, that was stupid. I’m sorry.” She released Sparrow and leaned against the far wall, letting out a long breath.

“Have you got that out of your system then?”

“No!” Jocasta glared at Sparrow. “I’m still mad at you because of your mad ambition! I like the fact that you’re ambitious but this is a real threat, Sparrow.”

“I’m just trying to open our world up, that’s all. Is that a bad thing?”

“Yes!” Jocasta threw up her hands. “It’s not supposed to be opened! Opening it will destroy it!”

“Oh no? What exactly does it mean, that your world can’t stand up to openness?”

“It means it’s too small and to fragile to have everyone come barging in at once,” said Jocasta.

“What,” said Sparrow, “is the Wizarding World like a pub that only ever caters to local loyal customers, so a bunch of tourists at once would put a severe strain on the employees?”

“Like a – yes, let’s go with that. Only this pub? Has wine glasses that bite you and random trapdoors, and someone in the back room performing human sacrifices.”

“How do you – ”

“Hello?” said Jocasta, waving her hands in front of her. “My last name’s Carrow? I’m a Slytherin? Got the green-trimmed robes and everything? Girl, there’s things in my father’s house, there’s things in the castle, there’s things in my _common room_ that would try to obliterate you if they knew what you were up to. Salazar’s legacy around here doesn’t stop with the Chamber of Secrets.”

“So what,” said Sparrow, “did you want a taste of me before I was disintegrated? Is that what this is?”

“This is desperation,” said Jocasta. “I had hoped that if you had a taste of _me_ then you might think twice about going off kaboom.”

“I think I did that before the break,” said Sparrow. “I’m kind of waiting for the first howler to arrive.”

“How can you be so flippant about this!”

“I’m just glad to have you in my presence again. I wanted to talk to you about a few things. Like our shared goal.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I wanted to get started on that.”

“You – ugh!” Jocasta crossed her arms. “I am hardly in the mood to discuss that at the moment. I’m still mad at you.”

“Mad because I’m a threat? Or mad because you might lose me? Because it sounds to me like you’re more concerned about the latter. I’ve had the feeling for a while that you care about me a lot more than you would for a sworn enemy. I think you care _for_ me. Am I correct?”

“Don’t get all romantic on me, girl.”

“You’re the one who kissed me!”

“I mean like storybook romance. Immature romance. That kind of nonsense.”

“Shoving someone up against a wall and kissing them is very much storybook immature nonsense romance! And now you’re telling me you’re not into that? Give me a clear answer here. Do you fancy me or not?”

“I…”

“Jocasta. It doesn’t have to be a hard answer. You’ve been joking around about being interested in me all year. I’ve been interested in _you_ every since you tried to help me cast an offensive spell. Maybe even before that, when you went out of your way to let me know that Violet was waiting for me. If you feel the same way you shouldn’t be beating around the bush. It doesn’t do a body good.”

“Don’t drag it out of me!” said Jocasta. “It’s mine to say, not yours. Why are you interested in me anyway?”

“Think of it this way,” said Sparrow. “I’m the Aspiring Prefect, right? Never suffer a student to break The Rules if I can help it. And here you come, Breaking The Rules. Being annoying. Being spicy. Challenging me to become a better wizard, in your own way. I think you’d make a better Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher than Professor Budge, to be honest. He’s a little too easygoing.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Jill and I are a matching set when it comes to magical skills. I think you and I could be a matching set when it comes to our approaches towards authority. Not just this business with transfiguration. I’d really like to have you at my side. Especially since you know how to duel and I only know how to smash, right now.”

“Hang on a second,” said Jocasta. “I thought we were talking about romance.”

“Love grows in partnerships, sometimes. Like between me and Jill. So I can do romance if you want, but I can also leave it, because it might get in the way of my goals.”

Jocasta put her face in her hands.

“What is it?”

“You,” said Jocasta. “I think you somehow became a Slytherin over the Christmas break. You’ve got such a towering ambition that you won’t even stop to let yourself relax. Have a little fun, will you? Have a little snog with a friend. Get off your goddamn high horse long enough to get a little dirty with us mortals. Even Zeus knew how to get his rocks off, girl.”

“I’ve…never really done that before.”

“You just did!”

“Doesn’t count. I didn’t want it.”

“What about with Jill then?”

“We barely had time before we stopped.”

“Fine. Would you like me to show you?”

“Will it take too much time? I wanted to have a look at the potions textbook again and class begins in ten minutes.”

Jocasta turned to the wall opposite Sparrow and thumped her head repeatedly.

“What?”

“I’m starting to think you’re not actually interested in this.”

“I didn’t say that, did I?”

“You’re being evasive. If you’re not interested it doesn’t work.”

“That’s pretty rich coming from you, miss pin-people-to-the-wall. And haven’t I been flirtatious enough this year? Haven’t I already expressed my interest in you? I’m just having trouble saying it in the way you want me to. I know how to say it my way but your way is -- goddammit. Kiss me again, please.”

Jocasta spun around and planted a kiss on Sparrow’s lips, then let go. “So you do like this after all.”

“Of course,” said Sparrow. “Far more so when you don’t _ambush me_ with the whole business. And I think this kind of relationship has the potential to strengthen our working partnership – ”

“You’re making it sound like a business deal.”

“You said no romance!”

“No foolish romance. No soppy stuff. But there’s still such a thing as having fun, isn’t there?”

Sparrow huffed. “Fine. But we can’t let it get out of hand. Not if it gets in the way of our shared goal. Because that was why we got talking in the first place, right? No sense forgetting that. So no stupid romance stuff. No pining, no jealousy, no love songs, none of that. And no love poems.”

Jocasta grinned. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art – ”

“No! No! Bad girl!”

“Ooh, getting kinky. I like it.”

“None of that either!”

“Yes mistress.”

“Stop that or I’ll get my whip. Anyway, ideally we’ll have no focus on monogamy either.”

“No focus on – you need to choose, girl!”

“Do I? I know both you and Jill want me, and I know you want both me and Jill. And I’m a nice sweet little Hufflepuff covered in sugar. How could I be so stingy as to restrict myself to either of you? But that’s something I need to ask Jill about, when I get the chance, because we’re not exactly broken up, just, you know, Off. And I could not say that I love her, if I were to betray her trust by taking up another relationship without telling her. Or, you know, inviting her in. A love triangle that goes unresolved by the simple solution of polyamory is one of the most annoying stories I could read.”

Jocasta blushed. “You know I’ve never had someone seriously propose such a thing to me before. Polyamory. Hoo boy. Well. Let’s…not get that started just yet. You still have certain _ahem_ things to learn. And you want Jill on your side too, right?”

“It would be good to have the school’s best duelists working with me, instead of potentially against me.”

“ _And_ you’re inexperienced when it comes to matters of lust.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Then, let us say that I shall teach you the ways of lovers, and you shall use them to please Jill. Because I do care about her. I would hate to see my favorite dueling partner experience an awkward and sloppy romance from an inexperienced prude. If I teach you, you can avoid messing up with your one true love.”

“Jill is my best friend,” said Sparrow. “Not my one true love. I don’t like the idea of One True Love. I would like to think I could have more than one. There is no sense being stingy.”

“But do you like my offer?”

“I do.” Sparrow grinned. “It sounds like a win-win.”

“And…no soppy romance if we can help it.”

“We shall strive to avoid it.”

Jocasta let out a breath. “Thank god. I’ve had quite enough of that nonsense already. Alright then.” She tapped her lips. “There’s only one proper way to seal this deal.”

Sparrow kissed her back, at last, long and hard.

…

Sparrow had said no romance. But there are some things about human relationships that are hard to avoid, and that few really try to avoid at all, for it is the rare and strange few that actively try to avoid feeling happy about a new kissing partner. Sparrow tried to remain stern and businesslike for a few days, then gave in and allowed herself to feel like she was floating.

Fortunate she was, for it allowed her to blithely ignore the angry stares of her classmates.

Jill’s angry stare was not something she could ignore.

Unfortunately Jill was not giving her a chance to figure out what it meant, because the girl was stomping out of the Hufflepuff common room without a word. Sparrow elected to follow her out, since she didn’t exactly feel wanted in the common room. Then again, she didn’t feel wanted anywhere inside the castle, save where Jocasta was in the room.

She elected to wander down to the greenhouses. It would be some time before the Herbology lecture. She could get brownie points for showing up early. She could also talk to Miranda.

And so Sparrow found herself in front of the door to the little private greenhouse. Miranda was in. Would she open the door, though, that was the question.

The door swung open without Miranda moving an inch.

Sparrow stepped through. She felt a curious tingling all down her lower back.

“Decontamination field,” said Miranda. “No sense letting spores get out. North America lost an entire tree species that way. Now what exactly does the madgirl want, hm?”

“Your help.”

“Out of the question,” said Miranda. “I have no desire to risk my work by attracting the wrath of the Ministry.”

“That’s not what I’m after,” said Sparrow. “That work will take years. Decades, maybe. It’s got to be beyond-advanced magic. What I’m after here is much more up your alley.”

Miranda paused, with her trowel full of dragon dung poised above a pot. “Yes?”

“See I have this werewolf problem…”

“He’s not a problem,” said Miranda.

“Oh yeah? Who’s not?”

“The librarian.”

“How on earth did you know I was talking about the librarian?”

“Is it so difficult to deduce?” said Miranda. “Grey hair, dresses all in gray, incredibly shy, shuts himself behind unbreakable magical locks in the library every night? Not much of a secret at all. So what do you request, then? Do you want me to make him a potion to calm his raging soul, on the nights when the full moon finds him?” She turned to her pot and continued to shovel dragon dung in. “Professor Longbottom handles that business. What could I do?”

“I want you to help me find a cure for lycanthropy.”

Miranda froze. “Excuse me?”

“If anyone can do it, it’s either you our Slughorn, and I don’t think he’d be interested.”

“I feel,” said Miranda. “A tingle in my feet. A twitch in my fingers. A buzz in my ears.” She shimmied her shoulders. “Oh, it comes upon me again. My old friend Pride. I must resist. But I can’t. I must resist. I must!” She clenched her fist. “I was tricked before! I shall not be tricked again!”’

“No trickery,” said Sparrow. “No lies, no deceit. Not with me. I want this potion because I would help someone who needs it, and even if he doesn’t, many would gladly take it. That’s all.”

“Really.” Miranda crossed her arms. “No ulterior motive at all?”

“Well, I mean, it would also be a chance to be studying fundemantal components of magic without catching the attention of anyone important. But never mind that bit, you never heard me mention it. What say you to this challenge?”

“We will discuss it later. And don’t expect results soon. Or at all.”

“Fair enough,” said Sparrow.

…

There were a scant few students who had come around, in the course of a few weeks. Mostly Slytherins, who believed that the entire world ought to be pureblood in the first place. This gave Sparrow some pause.

She decided to confide in Cormac, who was a level-headed fellow. And a pureblood. So he had some perspective.

She managed to find him in a particular disused classroom that he had turned into a surreptitious repository for his books of advanced wandlore. It was typically on the fourth floor. Fortunately for Sparrow, it was one of the rooms that moved according to a clear schedule, and so as today was Wednesday she would be certain to find it on the first floor close to the great hall, which meant that Sparrow could sashay straight to it from lunch.

And so she sashayed straight into the room, whereupon Cormac, seeing the face of his friend who he wasn’t supposed to be talking to openly, rushed to close the door. At the same moment Sparrow realized her mistake, and waved her wand to close the door.

Unfortunately Cormac was also hit by the spell, so he wound up being scooted out of the room as the door closed.

He opened it, and said, “There’s such a thing as being too Wizardly, you know.”

Then he closed the door, still on the outside of it. And the door did not open again.

No matter how long Sparrow waited, Cormac did not come back. So, she elected to peruse Cormac’s tomes of lore. Ah, here was a good one. _Effects of wand components on spellcasting, volume one. By Yassen Gregorovitch._

_Introduction._

_The middling wand maker knows that Bowtruckles are the key to blah blah blah blah_ alright so this book was boring already. Goodness only knew what Cormac got out of it. Well, Cormac also knew. Maybe Cormac was Goodness. He seemed level-headed enough for it.

The door banged open. There stood Cormac, looking angry, with a gaggle of students behind him. “There you are!” he said. “Out of my study!” He marched over to Sparrow, arms swinging manfully. “What secrets are you stealing from me, eh?” He leaned over Sparrow’s shoulder as if to check the book and whispered, “Just play along and meet me behind the One-Eyed Witch after dinner.”

“But sir!” said Sparrow. “I wished only to partake in thy knowledge! I beseech thee, let me become thine apprentice in wandlore, and we shall rival Ollivander together!”

“Out!” roared Cormac. “Never darken my books again!” He grabbed her by the back of her shirt neck and, with Sparrow’s assistance, tossed her out of the room. “And stay out.” _SLAM._

Some of the students giggled. “Hey look,” said Violet standing among them, “It’s Dent-head Jones.” The students sniggered.

Sparrow backed away from the gaggle in haste, turned, and put her face in her hands, pretending to cry. “You are all so MEAN!” she said. “Perhaps no one deserves to have magic!”

A chorus of offended cries.

_You can’t mean it!_

_Surely everyone deserves to have magic!_

_Please don’t take magic away from us, mistress!_

Sparrow felt a hand upon her shoulder. Sparrow looked up. It was Percival Bulstrode, head held high, eyes upon the crowd with a mighty expression. “She’ll spread magic to the whole world,” he said, “and you’ll all be grateful.” Being a head taller than her, he had to decline his head pretty far to beam at her. “Don’t worry, Sparrow. The Slytherins have your back.”

“Hang on a minute,” said Maledictus Bulstrode. “If she gives magic to the whole world then bein’ pureblood don’ mean nuffin’ anymore, do it?”

“I have warned you about speaking in the tongue of lower-class Londoners,” said Percival.

“But he’s right!” said a Slytherin girl named Belladonna Burke. “How do you lord it over anyone if they’re just as magic as you?”

There was a chorus of disappointed muttering from the crowd of Slytherins, and a few half-hearted insults. All of them slowly sidled away from her except for Percival. Sparrow couldn’t tell if this was a good thing or not. “I shall stand by her,” said Percival, “though the world itself may turn upon her. What do you say, Sparrow? Shall we achieve this lofty goal together?”

“I, uh.” This was getting out of hand. “I’ve got a partner. Already. I mean, um…Oh! Bulstrode, you cad!” she put a hand up to her forehead and swooned. “I have pledged my love to another, and you shall not take me from her! How dare you even suggest such a thing! My love for her is undying!”

“Hang on a second,” said Percival, “I didn’t – ”

“Masher!” said Sparrow. “Scoundrel! Be gone from my sight!”

“Shall I duel him in the name of your honor?” said Jill’s voice from the crowd.

“Nay, he is not even worthy of that! Let the base churl depart in peace, knowing of his shame!”

Percival departed, barging his way through the crowd, muttering angrily.

The crowd, meanwhile, was now on to the sort of thing that teenaged children pay attention to in great detail: who is kissing whom. If teachers could somehow manage to make their lesson plans involve romance, grades would go up all over the world. The chorus of queries was all towards that subject.

Some of them were asking about second base.

“My love is pure as the driven snow!” said Sparrow, as she put her hands on her hips. “I should not sully myself with such base acts!”

“I bet that’s because you don’t know how to do them yet,” said Jocasta from the front row of the crowd.

“Well, I –”

“I can teach you if you like.”

“What shameless impudence!” said Sparrow. “Fie upon you all! I shall tell you nothing more of the subject!” She turned, and marched away with her head held a little too high.

…

The One-Eyed Witch was a part of the castle architecture that moved every day. People swore the old bat was alive, somehow. Well, who knew. She was annoying, at least. Sparrow wasted an entire hour looking for her, only to discover her on the wall opposite the Hufflepuff Common Room door.

How the secret passage moved with her was hard to fathom, but move it did. Sparrow tapped the witch’s hump. A hatch on the top sprang open and Sparrow climbed in.

Cormac was in the passage, along with Jill and Violet. They were lit by a single Lumos from Cormac’s wand. Very spooky. Very conspiratorial. Sparrow would have felt more of a thrill of illicit plotting if it wasn’t for the fact that her wand seemed to be tugging her pocket towards Jill. Sparrow sidled away from Violet, not wanting to deal with any awkward questions. Jill was also standing at a slight distance, and looked peeved.

“Do you think we fooled them?” said Cormac. “Excellent performance, by the way. Wonderful improv.”

“It was good enough,” said Jill, “that I felt as though some of the students were playing along. Jocasta really sold it. Maybe you two should do improv classes together.”

“Sorry about the dent-head thing,” said Violet. “That was Jill’s idea.”

“Because I think you must have been knocked in the head,” said Jill. “This whole plan is ludicrous.”

“Well,” said Sparrow. “Hopefully it’s ludicrous enough that the Ministry thinks it would never even begin to work. There is such a thing as taking cover under absurdity, you know.”

“How very devious,” said Cormac. “You’d make a wonderful –”

“ _Don’t_ say it.”

“She’s dating a Slytherin anyway,” said Violet.

Jill pursed her lips.

“That explains why the improv went so well,” said Cormac. “Drawing from life, it seems.”

“We’re not dating!” said Sparrow. “She’s just helping me with transfiguration and– ”

“Jocasta Carrow,” said Jill. “You’re dating Jocasta Carrow.”

Cormac put his face in his palm.

“Yes. No! It’s a perfectly casual relationship!”

“Uh huh,” said Cormac, somewhat muffled. “That’s going to work out perfectly.”

Jill was looking extremely put out. But she gritted her teeth and said, “I still have my misgivings about this entire plan. How do you know this will work? How do you know this is what anyone wants? I told you to think about others, girl. You’re bringing water to a desert that’s evolved to live without it. You might sweep away many innocent creatures in the flood.”

“I…haven’t even been able to ask the people I would be affecting most. You know how the Ministry is. I’m assuming that’s why we’re all here instead of by the fire in the nice cozy common room, right? If I go around asking muggles if they want magic I’d be in Azkaban before I knew what happened. So Jocasta’s going to help me on that front. I can’t tell you how but – ”

“She’s going to teach you how to become an unregistered animagus,” said Violet.

Cormac looked up at Violet in chock, then at Sparrow.

Sparrow crossed her arms. “I didn’t say that!”

“She’s the transfiguration witch around here,” said Violet, “and there’s genuinely no other transfiguration topic that anyone would want to keep discreet. Unless you’re transfiguring a teacup into a sex toy, I suppose, but that wouldn’t help you talk to muggles. I think.”

Sparrow blushed. “I can neither confirm nor deny the validity of your…oh, hang it all. Yes, Jocasta’s helping me become an Animagus. Are you happy? Boy, I’d make a godawful Secret Keeper.”

“I want in,” said Violet. In the light of their wands there was a strange gleam in her eyes and a strange smile on her lips. “It sounds like it would be great fun.”

“Violet!” said Cormac. “I thought Sparrow here was insane, but now you’re jumping in as well? This is…this is. Oh dear. Oh dear dear dear. I think you’ve bit off more than you can chew, girl.” He shook his head slowly. “I think you’re going to make a mess of things.”

“Not if I have help,” said Sparrow, placing a hand on Violet’s and Cormac’s shoulders. “Not if we help each other. Each of us brings great talents to the table already. Jill of the sword, I of the shield, Cormac of the wand, Violet of the book. Together we can work miracles. Yet we may be sundered, and it would be to the ruin of all. This goal, this challenge, can bring us all closer together. What do you say?”

“I’ll do it,” said Cormac, “ _if_ you survive. That’s a big ‘if’, you know. I could just jolly off and make wands for myself and never give a whit about you again. But I care too much about muggles to just let them dwindle. And I don’t want to see you explode or anything. So. Succeed and I will follow. Only until you succeed will I follow. Violet, I recommend you wait as well until Sparrow blazes the trail.”

“I’m not stupid,” said Violet.

“You’re wanting to become an Animagus before you’re even fifteen,” said Cormac.

“I’m insane. I’m not stupid.”

“Jocasta’s either going to be delighted or furious,” said Sparrow. “Jill? What about you?”

Jill was still looking frustrated.

“What is it?” said Sparrow.

“Nothing! Nothing! Nothing at all! I’ll explain on the morrow. In the meantime let us all be sworn to secrecy.”

And so they placed their hands in the center of their circle, and pledged upon their sacred honor.


	17. What did you see in me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jill lets Sparrow in on some personal business.

The Hufflepuff Girl’s Dormitory was divided into five rooms.

This particular morning, however, there was another room, at the end of the dormitory corridor. Jill had informed Sparrow that it would be there, and that she would be in it. Sparrow had taken some time to believe her friend, but then she remembered a night about two years ago where Catarina Quiddler had needed a place to sleep away from a rather abusive ex, something that could last longer than a shield spell, and until such time as the matter was sorted out there had been a sixth dorm room that would open for none but her.

And here it was again. Sparrow knocked on the door, and it opened silently, despite the fact that Jill, already in her school robes, was kneeling with her face pressed against the one tall window. The morning light cast a long shadow behind her. A wide bed stood against the left-hand wall, a wardrobe stood beside it, a chair sat against the opposite wall, a thickly-piled carpet lay between them. That was all the room held.

Sparrow shut the door. “Are you…feeling okay?”

“Hm?” Jill looked back at Sparrow.

“I mean you don’t look exactly happy.”

“Oh!” Jill giggled. “I wanted to be kneeling all dramatically in front of the window when you came in, but then I realized I could barely see out the damn thing. So, I was just trying to peer through it.”

The windowpane, as Sparrow now noticed, admitted all sunlight but offered very little clue as to the view outside. Sparrow was not certain if the shape outside the window was a dead tree or some manner of distant tower.

“Maybe it is best not to ask,” said Sparrow.

“That’s a strange thing to hear coming from you,” said Jill.

“Let us say…I am learning my limits.”

“Ah, yes.” Jill stood, but remained staring at the window. “About that.”

Sparrow remained at the door for a second, waiting for Jill to say something else, to no avail. She gave up and sat down on the end of the bed, then decided that it would be a far more fitting position if she sat in Jill’s shadow on the carpet.

Still Jill did not speak.

“You called me here for some reason,” said Sparrow. “Are you going to let me know what it is or will I be waiting here until breakfast? I know you’re feeling like this is an important meeting but – ” She fell silent when Jill turned around.

“I suppose you’re wondering,” said Jill, “Why I’ve called you here this – oh hang it all, you look like some kind of poor peasant praying to a god.” She sat with her back against the wall, neck at the level of the windowsill, so that her head remained silhouetted. “I can’t possibly talk to you in that position. And I bet I just looked like a towering glowering grump anyway. And I’m still silhouetted.” She moved to the side.

“Now you look like you’re a mysterious muttering specter hiding in the shadows, waiting to offer cynical cryptic clues to the idealistic hero.”

“You’re not far off the mark,” said Jill. “But you’re still in the center of the rug so the positioning is all weird. And you’re lit up in the sun like you’re a sweet little angel.”

Sparrow put on an innocent look. “Am I not?”

“Bit of a contrast to your usual aloofness with other students, yes.”

Sparrow moved closer to the bed and out of the sunlight. “Better?”

“No. Drama’s ruined. Sorry.”

“Here’s an idea,” said Sparrow. “You sit on the bed and I’ll – ”

“Sit on the bed with me? Little too lovey-dovey for my tastes right now, thank you.”

Sparrow huffed. “I was _going_ to say, you sit on the bed and I’ll sit here in the sunlight because I like it.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Jill flopped down on the bed and rolled herself over to lay supine, dangling her arms over the end and hanging her head, while Sparrow moved back to the center of the rug.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“No.”

“Spill.”

“To you?” said Jill. “Now? Never mind. Forget it. I can’t even tell you now and I can’t tell Jocasta eith – Dammit.” She put her hands over her scalp. “The beans have been spilled.”

“So you wanted to talk about dating,” said Sparrow. “That’s what this is about.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re missing me?”

“I still have you,” said Jill. “I don’t have your kisses. But, that’s by my request.”

“Are you…disappointed I’m dating Jocasta?”

Jill said nothing.

“Why?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Guessing time,” said Sparrow. “Let me see. I think it’s because…it means I’m getting involved with your arch-rival, influenced by her, enough to start thinking I want to be an Animagus after all – ah, I remember what I wanted to ask you about! I never did get an indication of what you thought of that business.”

“I would find it highly amusing to accomplish,” said Jill. “I would consider it a mighty challenge. Highly tempting. But I think you’re stalling.”

“Oh, I don’t know what you – ”

“Think about the situation from my perspective.” Jill moved back on the bed and propped her head on her arms. “From the beginning of the school year. We get to school, run straight at each other through the Great Hall and hugs and kisses and oh it’s a grand day to see you again. And you even manage to hold yourself back from mentioning the Statute of Secrecy that day, just for me, like you used to do much better.”

“The best day of the year is the day I get to see you again.”

“And I always feel the same.”

Sparrow beamed, enough to nearly add more sunlight to the room.

“So at that point, I’ve been working up the nerve for months to finally tell you about my feelings for you. But I wait. Just to make sure you’re settled in at Hogwarts before I hit you with something big.”

“You mean besides your arms?”

“You know what I mean. But then oh, Jocasta Carrow shows up and – ”

“And you’re reminded that you also want to date her.”

Jill blinked.

“It’s not entirely a wild guess,” said Sparrow. She stroked her chin. “I’m thinking, you know, if your style of love is to build up to intimacy out of long-established close personal connections, such as with _moi_ …you’ve dueled with Jocasta since First Year, right? Talked to her after matches, seen her now and then, looked forward to seeing her, missed her when she was gone, maybe a little more than you expected…am I on the right track?”

“Pretty damn close.”

“And the fact that you totally ditched me from mid-September onwards, and then again later…I know you feel things deeply, deeper than I do. You take stuff seriously. Especially your promises. You never broke a promise that you made to me – ”

“Oh yes I did,” said Jill. “That one time in First year I said I’d get you a real ball point pen, and I never did. Hang on.” She fished around in her sleeve. “Here, have a ball point pen.” She tossed a cheap plastic clicker pen at Sparrow.

“That just illustrates my point,” said Sparrow. “You care a whole hell of a lot about stuff. Enough to remember an idle promise from years and years ago. So when you tell me you’ve been desperate to hold me safe in your arms, I know you’re telling me the truth. But then in September, you ditch me once when Jocasta was around – ”

“If we’re talking about the incident with the bag of flour, I figured you were fine as long as Cormac was there.”

“Yeah,” said Sparrow. “Now we’re getting to my point. You think as long as you’re not leaving me totally alone, you’re not breaking your vow. Yes?”

“I…hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Doesn’t have to be surface thoughts. Just a matter of reflex. Last year at the end of the school year you would barely let me out of your arms. So if you _are_ able to ditch me, it has to be a situation where you automatically assume I’ll be okay. Right? So you ditch me once, Cormac’s there, you ditch me again at the dining table, Cormac’s there, but then – ooh, the third time is different. Third time is _after_ you made your feelings clear. _After_ you made a promise explicit. I take you to see Miranda up on the walkway, and oh no, Jocasta’s there, your sworn nemesis! You’d think that would be a perfect time to fight for my safety, but no, you _still_ ditch me, because – here’s the point – there’s a part of you that trusts her enough to leave me in her company.”

A room with a closed window and a closed door had no opportunity to let wind fill the silence.

“Am I right?”

“Ahem,” said Jill. “I’d say you’re getting better at considering how other people think.”

“Why thank you – ”

“And it’s tempting to make fun of you for overblowing the whole ‘sworn enemy’ thing.”

Sparrow frowned. “She isn’t your sworn enemy?”

“I have always felt safe around her. She makes _me_ feel safe.”

Sparrow tilted her head in puzzlement. “You? Feel – what could possibly imperil the mighty Jillian Patil, strong as a roaring ox, solid as a mountain?”

Jill looked away. “Let me clarify. She makes me feel like I can be a safe _person_.”

“Um – ”

“Same as you do. Just…in a different way. How could I possibly explain – oh, I have an idea.” Jill rolled off the bed and went over to stand before the window. “Come here.”

For a moment, Sparrow did not move, nor dare to speak. For Jill’s silhouette filled the window frame, a silhouette of a height and size that would set the weak to whimpering, and have bold heroes loosening their swords in their sheathes. Sparrow stood, in the shadow of that awesome presence, and stepped forward.

“Ready your wand.”

“Excuse me?”

“If I do explode in flame, I don’t want you to be caught off-guard.”

Sparrow took her wand from her pocket. She held it in both hands close at her solar plexus, pointed straight upright in the ready-rest position of dueling. She would not point it at Jill. Not even if Jill asked.

“And now,” said Jill, “just for a moment, I will give in.”

In the next moment, where Jill’s face had been a black blankness, Sparrow could see two glowing lines of red, highlighting the line of the girl’s closed eyelids.

And then they opened. And what shone there was not a human eye as anyone would know it, not an eye as anyone would know it, neither pupil nor iris nor sclera, nothing but bright glowing red, the glow of iron just before it melted. The glow of lava as it burst from the earth. The glow of a firestorm on the horizon. Of all colors on the earth, that was the color of fury. 

And in the back of her mind, Sparrow heard something. Faint, remote, indistinct, as if down a long hallway. As if two people were on the other side of a door that was down a long hallway, so that one could hear no clear part of what they were saying -- but could hear the utter fury of their argument. Whatever that voice was, whatever it was saying, it was the voice of rage incarnate. 

Sparrow's eyes were fixed upon Jill's firey gaze. But something below that gaze caught her attention. A subtle twitch of movement. Sparrow glanced down. Jill's hand was trembling as she held her wand.

Sparrow readied herself to cast a shield around her friend, wondering if any shield she made could possibly hold against the fire that Jill would unleash. Her own hand trembled.

But in the next moment, the trembling ceased. Jill’s glowing eyes became glowing lines once more, and then the glow faded.

“Is that what it is?” said Sparrow. “Is my dear friend a demon?”

“There are times,” said Jill, “when I call myself such a thing. Moments when I am alone. When I forget to avoid it, when I take pleasure in tearing myself down. Not good times. The last semester was a spiral of mental injury I inflicted against myself. But, no, I would not say there are literal demons in my family tree.”

“Then where does the glow come from?”

“Bad memories. All I can give you is a hint. Tell me, are you terrified?”

Sparrow shook her head.

“Then step closer.”

Sparrow moved to stand directly before Jill, saying nothing, head filled with questions.

“Now,” said Jill. “Look into my eyes.”

All of Sparrow’s questions fled away as Jill bent down to put her face right up to Sparrow’s, locking eyes with her. “Look,” said Jill. “I mean _look._ What do you see?”

At first, Sparrow saw nothing, nothing but the depth of pupils. But then she noticed – faintly, possibly, she saw a curious flicker in the way those eyes shone – a flicker that felt oddly familiar.

Jill blinked. The flicker disappeared. But then in a second, it was there again. Sparrow looked into the depths of Jill’s eyes, and in that space, where she expected nothing – there she saw movement, dim and shapeless as if she saw it in a mirror in a darkened room. Movement like flame.

“Sparrow. Tell me what you see.”

“Something burns within you. My God, Jill. How long? How long has it been burning? How many years have you been desperately holding yourself together?”

"Enough to leave its mark on my eyes. What do you think happens if I let that fire out all at once?"

“Someone would get killed. No. Many people would be killed. Possibly before they even knew what was happening. Jesus fucking Christ, Jill. Have you never seen a counselor? In the Wizarding world? Or the Muggle one?"

"Didn't want to expose them to any danger." Jill straightened up, and went back to the bed, resuming her supine position. Sparrow remained standing before the window, wishing she could see anything out of it to lighten the mood. But as ever, there was nothing. She took her place back on the carpet and rested her chin in her hands.

After a few moments of silence, she said, “Does the dueling club serve as a safe outlet?”

“Could be,” said Jill. “But think of it this way. Do you remember Finny Wambsgans?”

“The guy who you almost vaporized – oh. Yes. And then Jocasta jumped in and deflected the fireball like it was nothing.”

“And has she ever lost a duel to me since?”

“I imagine she’d be minus an arm if she did.”

Jill pursed her lips.

“Sorry. Inappropriate joke. So Jocasta’s never lost a duel to you. Go on.”

“What do you think I might be thinking about her all the time?”

“That you…want her around to make sure you don’t kill someone?”

Jill shook her head. 

“You like having her around because you know you won’t kill her by accident. So you can relax around her the way you can relax around me. When you’re normally wound as tight as a spring.”

Jill nodded.

“And there’s nobody else in the school who you feel like a safe person around? Nobody else who can endure your flames?”

Jill shrugged. “Percival Bulstrode, maybe. He’s gotten real good at dueling. So has his brother Maledictus. I think Lily Birch is completely invulnerable to being burned after that one potions accident but that wouldn’t save her from other spells. And, you know, none of them were like that in First year. So, Jocasta was there first…and besides you I didn’t make other friends. Couldn’t. So for a while Jocasta was the only other person who I met on a regular basis, who I would stand to be around, who seemed like…like they weren’t scared of me.”

“You were real chummy with George Peasegood last year,” said Sparrow.

“Because he had skin made of stone from that botched Animagus attempt,” said Jill.

“Oh yeah, I wondered why he looked slightly grey. I thought he was ill.”

“He was. The situation caused him all kinds of medical complications. Maybe it was a little crass of me to take advantage of that? But all his acquaintances kind of abandoned him because of how often he was stuck in the hospital wing, so he had me, and…then his condition got better and he wasn’t safe around me again so – I mean I didn’t totally abandon him, we still write letters to each other – I’m not making myself look good here am I? The point is, you can see why I came to depend on having Jocasta around. Maybe too much. Way too much.”

“Did you tell her about any of this?”

“How exactly am I supposed to say that without sounding weird and obsessive, even leaving out the part where I might accidentally melt someone?”

“Very diplomatically. So you’re saying you never told her?”

“Not really – ”

“Have you ever had a proper conversation with her?”

“Nnnnnno.”

“Half a conversation?”

“We mostly talk dueling business when we meet.”

“So she might have some earthly idea what’s going on here, but it’s not very likely.”

Jill nodded.

“And you think she’s not scared of you. She doesn’t flinch away or anything? No sudden back-off glares, looks of cold disdain…nothing like that?”

“She kissed me once last year.”

“Oh my _God,_ Jill.”

“What!”

“She snogs you and you think you have to hesitate about asking her out?”

“It was on the cheek! Once! I thought it was one of her dumb jokes! She’s always joking about that kind of thing! She’s always going on like ‘oh if I had to marry anyone it would be my mighty giant dueling wife’ and – son of a bitch. Maybe she wasn’t joking.”

“Or,” said Sparrow, “she was using jokes to deflect thoughts that she didn’t want to take seriously. I think she did that to me over the past semester. Finally worked up to taking it seriously. Ooh la la.”

“Well I had every reason to believe Miss Prankster wasn’t being serious. I might have asked her out sooner if I thought she took anything seriously, ever. There were many times I felt a great disdain for her conflicting with my attachment and I couldn’t muster the courage to get her to stop. So – never had a real conversation.”

“Alright.” Sparrow lay back on the sunlit carpet, staring at the ceiling. “Let’s think about this past September. You’ve never had a proper conversation with this girl, you’ve got incredibly strong feelings about her that you haven’t worked out yet, you’ve got signals from her you haven’t fully understood yet, you’re about ready to tell me your feelings for me and – and had you yet worked out that you wanted to date her by that point?”

“A couple days before the business with the flour. But yeah, I was working up the nerve to talk to her about the situation at the same time I was going to tell you.”

“And you were incredibly conflicted, I imagine.”

“Bingo.”

“So when Jocasta made that crack about you following me into Hufflepuff – ”

“She really hit a nerve.” Jill buried her face in her arms. “I thought there was no point in telling her my feelings if she was going to make fun of them after all.”

“I see,” said Sparrow. “It was a delicate moment, teetering like a house of cards, and Jocasta tipped it over.”

“No,” said Jill. “You did.”

Sparrow sat up. She pointed at herself as if to say, _me?_

“You made it clear you didn’t have a clue what I was feeling. I worried that you didn’t have feelings for me at all, not the way I had them for you. So, between one potential romantic partner making fun of me, and another failing to defend me, I…had to leave the table. And I didn’t want to speak to you that day. And then a day became a week…and a week became a month…and another month. By that point, I was too embarrassed to come back.”

“But you did,” said Sparrow.

“It was clearly worth the effort. Especially since you missed me.”

“Missed you enough to nearly get sick! Yes. That was a terrible semester all around. I had to wonder if you would ever come back, or if you’d had enough of me and my wild ideas after all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“Better to communicate one’s feelings, eh?”

“Always.”

Jill raised her head. “So let’s talk about the current situation.”

Sparrow crossed her arms.

“And how you’re feeling.”

Sparrow un-crossed her arms.

“Because from my perspective – I’m feeling like a procrastinating dumbass. Here I go, waiting too long to tell either you or Jocasta about my feelings, and then through a tragedy of repeated errors on my part, suddenly two of the girls I thought about dating are dating each other. Whoopsy-doodle.”

“I don’t…see how this is a problem.”

Jill glowered at Sparrow. “What in the hell do you mean, you don’t see how this is a problem? You can’t possibly still be as oblivious as you were in September! I just explained the entire situation!”

“From your angle. I didn’t get a chance yet to tell you what I wanted to tell you.”

Jill huffed. “Do tell.”

“First of all…Jocasta and I aren’t dating.”

“Right, right. You’re just snogging here and there. That’s bound to stay platonic forever.” Jill rolled her eyes.

“Oh no, no.” Sparrow grinned. “Both of us have caught feelings for each other by now. We just…don’t want to let them get in the way of work. Or cause undue jealousy. Which would interfere in our work. Among other things it would do. And…” She put a hand on Jill’s arm. “I know she has feelings for you too. You know how she’s acted around you, I know what she’s told me. She wouldn’t ever say she was in love, not directly. But she told me she cares about you.”

“Oh, um. Okay. Go on.”

“At the Halloween Ball…what did she say now? Something like, ‘I could cut in between you and Jill, but that would be a terrible prank, I do not wish to hurt Jill.’ Something like that.”

Jill’s eyes widened. “She was being sweet?”

Sparrow shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah. Compared to her norm.”

“Jocasta Carrow, prankster queen of Hogwarts, mocker of all people high and low, was being sweet. For my sake.”

“For your sake. And then…she’s got to have been paying close attention to you for a while, because she told me you had embers in your heart that would catch fire again and then you’d come back to me. And here you are.”

“Oh dear,” said Jill. “Oh dear oh dear oh dear.” She buried her face in her arms again. “Now what do I do. Now I have to choose at some point. Or never pursue either option.”

“How do you know that’s true?”

“Eh?” Jill raised her head.

“I raised the idea with Jocasta first, but…actually, I think she gave me the idea first at the Halloween Ball. ‘Boo hoo what a pity we have monogamy.’ Or something. Maybe she didn’t mean to give me the idea but I got it.”

“What exactly are you getting at?”

“If forcing a choice on you would do you harm, I won’t have that. You could have us both, you see? And we could be three, and have each other. Without having to think we were keeping any one of us from the other.”

“Seriously?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Sparrow, I’ve seen it happen at this school a few times.”

“Oh, well – ”

“I just didn’t consider it a possibility for me. But. Here I am. Thinking about it now. Thinking how I might like that after all. Now I’ve got a lot to think about. So thanks a bunch.”

“If it’s easier on you,” said Sparrow, “I could just back off and let you have your fun with Jocasta.”

“Don’t martyr yourself, girl.”

Sparrow rose, and moved to look out the window. Or try to. “We’ve been the best of friends for three years,” said Sparrow. “That’s what I care about most here. If I’m standing here at the window, it’s to hide my own mortification. In my obliviousness I almost destroyed something dear to me.”

Sparrow fell silent.

Then Jill was there, with a hand on her shoulder. “Come on,” she said. “I thought I made it clear that I was the real dumbass in that situation.”

“You were the real dumbass _after_ that situation.”

“We’re both dumbasses.”

Sparrow giggled. “Might as well stick together, then. But, you know, what I’m talking about, all this polyamory business…it’s hypothetical right now anyway, right? Because of your worries about your wand.”

“Exactly” said Jill, “so – hang on.” She turned to face the bed. “Okay, Sparrow,” she said in a tone normally reserved for being upwind of a mother rhinoceros. “Don’t take out your wand – ”

But that was the wrong thing to say, because a readied wand was Sparrow’s immediate reflex at the first hint of danger. She whirled around, expecting to see some manner of many-tentacled beast.

There was nothing. Nothing but a wand on the bed.

“Jill, what exactly are you – hey!” The wand on the bed flew straight at her. Her own wand flew out of her hand. They met in the air with a resounding _CLACK_ , and hung there, fixed in place.

Fixed in place for all eternity, it seemed. No matter how much Sparrow or Jill pushed and pulled, the two wands did not move, nor did they come apart.

“This bullshit,” said Jill. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. It’s like our wands are in love, or something.”

Sparrow kept trying to pry the wands apart, to no avail. “I know what you mean. Imagine trying to kiss you and poking you with the wand every time.”

“It’s not just that!” Jill threw up her hands. “Oh, if it were only just that! It’s like the wands are trying to play matchmaker! It’s like they’re yet another thing trying to tell me I have some kind of Destiny! I don’t hold with that nonsense and I’m not going to start now! I am in control of my person and my future!”

Sparrow sat down beneath the wands, flustered but unwilling to move away from her own. “Yet another, eh? Do tell.”

“Nope.”

“Nope as in never?”

“Maybe later. Maybe on some moonlit night – ”

“Ooh,” said Sparrow. “I want to tell my horrifying story on a moonlit night too. And so does Cormac. And Blaise has a story. And I bet Jocasta does. This is all very convenient. We’ll do them all together.”

“And in the meantime,” said Jill, “I get to kiss Jocasta after all?”

“You have to ask her. Yourself.”

“Fine.” Jill sat down in front of Sparrow. “If you really want to make it a trio, you have to think about what that will take.”

“Open communication,” said Sparrow, “clear negotiation of boundaries and what gets shared, coordination of time schedules, and a decision on whether to make the relationship open or closed. Did I miss anything?”

Jill blinked. “I was thinking about everyone else’s reaction.”

“You said they didn’t mind.”

“I said I’ve seen it happen around here. But, Sparrow, think about it. What does everyone in this school say about love?”

“That it – uh – ”

“Saved…come on, your memory isn’t that bad.”

“The world. Love saved the world. Right?”

“Riiiiiiight. Everyone around here knows the legend of Harry Potter. There’s people who think he defeated Voldemort through Great Might but most of us know that love literally saved his life twice. So, think about it. They see me getting kissy with Jocasta, then they see you getting kissy with Jocasta, and they think two of us are a terrible awful no-good cheater, and in a righteous defense of Love they turn one of us into a toad. Remember what happened to Geoffrey Cranshaw when he cheated on his girlfriend?”

“Someone turned him into a toad.”

“Exactly!”

“And I just falsely accused Percival Bulstrode of cheating on his girlfriend.”

“You…oh right, you did. Maybe you want to tell people it was a lie? Before he gets turned into a toad as well? See, this is what you get for not paying attention to your fellow students.”

“Don’t remind me. Strike that. Keep reminding me. Getting to the matter at hand, you say our fellow students are righteous in the defense of Love. Would they interfere if three of us were openly a trio?”

“They might be surprised. It’s not a very common thing, except in the storybooks we pass between each other. We might find people interfering for the sake of upholding unrealistic idealism. These are the same students who willingly toss in a galleon to pay for the Cupids to come around. We’re all very Romantic.”

“Oh goodness, don’t remind me.”

“I think I will have to keep reminding you about that as well.”

“Ugh!”

“It’s for your own good, girl.”

“ _Ugh!_ ”

Jill giggled. “Now you know what you sound like sometimes. Ah, but you’ve got a heart of gold. Always trying to do the right thing. I may need you for that someday. As I need Jocasta for – oh dear. I wonder if I need her for everything.”

“Sounds like you’re in _love._ ”

“Oh goodness,” said Jill, “is that what it is? I had _no_ idea. Thank you _so_ much for reminding me.”

“And I’m in love.”

“With Jocasta?”

“With you, silly! I mean probably with her too but definitely with you. You of the burning passion, the will to meet all challenges, the strength to restrain your terrifying power. How could I not be? And yet – how could I claim to love you, if I kept you away from one you loved? Think about _that._ ”

“Sparrow, you don’t have to convince me any more about this. I’m on board if you are.”

“Excellent! Then you have your fun with her, and I’ll have my fun with her, and when you’re ready I can have my fun with you too. Does that work?”

“I’d say it does.” Jill looked up. “But until I figure out what’s going on with our wands…I can’t say when, if ever, I’d be ready for you.”

“We’ll figure it out,” said Sparrow.

“How do you know?”

“Hello? Teenage lust? Ought to be an excellent catalyst for research. Hell, I’ve got an idea already. If this wand thing doesn’t happen all the time but only when we’re feeling real passionate about each other, like at the dueling club, then maybe if we can let passion go…”

“Yeah, sure,” said Jill. “I’ll just meditate my way through my entire life.”

“Try it now.”

“How do I – ”

“Close your eyes. There you go. Get in a comfy position, breathe deeply in and out, and think about nothing.”

“How do I – ”

“Ah ah ah! No speech no thoughts.”

For a minute nothing happened. Then, as Sparrow watched, both wands uncoupled and fell out of the air.

Right onto her head. She glanced at both wands on her lap, snatched up one and stuffed it in her pocket before it could cause any more trouble. She handed the other to Jill.

“Marvelous,” said Jill. “Now how am I going to do that all the time?”

“I don’t know,” said Sparrow, as she stood. “Practice? And I’ll ask Cormac about what else we might do. Mister Wand Lore has to have _some_ ideas. ”

“Or he knows where to look for them,” said Jill. “In the meantime, let’s avoid exciting our wands.”

“Well, it’s not like I have one, anyway.”

“You don’t – _Sparrow_!” She giggled. “I _mean_ , the only way we’re going to be able to be together right now is to remain chaste. Are you okay with that?”

Sparrow nodded.

“Then,” said Jill, “Let us not think of ourselves as lovers, right now, but as sword and shield. Someday you will know how to wield the sword and I the shield. Do you want to try to learn again?”

“Perhaps I do,” said Sparrow. “But my wand would not approve, I fear.”

“Which wand?”

“Jill!”

Jill giggled. “Sorry. Bad start.”

“Well, let me know when you do want to try dueling again.”

Jill giggled.

“Not that kind of dueling!” Sparrow let out an angry huff. “Is there anything you want me to tell Jocasta?”

“Tell her…tell her that I am very cross with her for the rumors she has spread, and how she spoke to me on that September morning. Tell her that if we are to date, she shall not do such a thing again, to anyone. Tell her that I – I benefit immeasurably from her company, and hope that she benefits from mine, and that I wish for such a relationship to last for a very long time. In whatever form it may take.”

“You wish her to stop a very old habit,” said Sparrow. “Hm. That will be tricky. You could set it as a price for your affections, but…the old ‘if you love me’ ultimatum isn’t a good way to start a relationship.”

“I can’t see any other way. Even if it’s a bad way. I might fall into it without meaning to. I mean, I’m clearly nervous around her everywhere besides the field of battle, so I’d – why are you grinning?”


	18. Shouldn't have said that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparrow earns a reward, and Jocasta really puts her foot in it.

The next day after the end of afternoon classes, Jocasta dragged Sparrow into passage hidden behind a bookcase near the entrance to the dungeons, and, after Sparrow cast a silencing charm on the stonework, they kissed for about two minutes straight.

“Well done,” said Jocasta. “You’re already getting better at this.”

“Is it that hard? Wait, wait, don’t answer that.”

“You walked right into that one,” said Jocasta. “Hey, did you talk to Jill yet?”

Sparrow relayed Jill’s message.

Jocasta Carrow, for as long as Sparrow had known her, wore either a smirk, or something that was about to become one. She had never, in Sparrow’s sight, looked especially cross, nor in any way grieving, nor disturbed. And yet, as Sparrow described what Jill had been through, Jocasta’s mask slipped, and she looked genuinely concerned. And from concern her face became sullen, and she sank to the floor, and sat against the wall. “I…” she coughed. “Wow. Okay. I guess I messed up a lot more than I realized.”

“As did I,” said Sparrow. She sat down next to Jocasta. “I didn’t know, you didn’t know. But now we know. Are you going to do that kind of thing to her again? Or anyone?”

“Maybe.”

Sparrow gave Jocasta a Look.

“Ok. Maybe not.”

“You told me you didn’t want to get involved in a three-way relationship yet. Did you at least want to date Jill?”

Jocasta’s cheeks turned pink. “It’s, um…I don’t know. I mean the news is just as I wanted to hear. I would hate to be interested in her if she’s not interested in me, but you know how those things go, sometimes it doesn’t work out, but – ”

“Why are you nervous?” said Sparrow. “You were the one making all sorts of unsubtle hints about being interested in her since September. I should think you would be overjoyed at this news.”

“Well now it’s more than a joke! Now it’s a real thing! Haven’t you ever practiced a piece of music for ages and ages and still shivered all over when it came time to perform on stage?”

“I don’t play music.”

“But you do understand my analogy, yes? Stage Fright.”

“I think so. Look. I understand that you’re a little nervous to get this ball rolling but it’s already rolling. I had to convince Jill that I wouldn’t stand between you two. Well, not as a barrier. We each have two hands, after all.”

Jocasta raised an eyebrow. “It sounds as though you are learning more from me than I expected.”

“And so will Jill, I expect. _If_ you treat her right. I won’t have it any other way. But I don’t expect that I will have to remind you.”

“And if she treats me right?” said Jocasta. “Look, part of the other reason I’m nervous is because she’s been pining away instead of communicating all this time. Could be dangerous if she lets all that tension go at once. Ah, but then I’d have to blame myself too.”

“Dangerous physically?”

“Emotionally. Like, yelling at me. I mean – I care enough about her to care that she’d be angry with me. Oh dear, my shields are down! Quick, Sparrow, cast a shield around my heart!”

“Could be a problem, yeah.”

“And…I’m actually a little disappointed with her. I have been ever since the incident with Guillermo. I feel like…if she’s obsessed with my presence in a non-violent situation, that’s one thing, but if she’s doing it at _dueling club?_ Things get hairy. She might get more and more careless as she gets more obsessed. Poor Guillermo lost an ear because Jocasta was slinging around a fire-whip spell. That was _such_ a terrible idea. So like – I’ve been wanting her to back the hell off from dueling club, for once, but as long as I’m there, as long as I _exist_ , she’s there bringing the storm of fire.”

“And you didn’t think to speak with her in a moment outside of Dueling Club?”

“Too nervous.”

“Fair enough.”

“And if I date her…I don’t know. I’d want her to stop going to the dueling club but I feel like I shouldn’t be barging into her life with an ‘if you love me’ ultimatum.”

“You will have to have that out with her.”

“Outside the field of battle? Yeesh. Alright.”

“Up to you. Now, we have some matters of business to discuss. For the clock is ticking here. At some point we’re going to have a full moon.”

“Yes,” said Jocasta, “they tend to come around once per month.”

“Maybe so. But I only have so many months, before the end of the school year. I only have a few chances to get this right. What do I need?”

“Grow your hair out, first of all. We’re going to need some of that.”

“It’s actually longer than it looks, you know. Just curled in on itself. Watch.” She pinched a bit of her hair and pulled, such that it extended outward about an inch.

“Oh, yes, I remember now. Anyway the first real step is to keep a single mandrake leaf under your tongue for an entire month.”

Sparrow blinked, and shook her head. “An entire month? That’s thirty days!”

“One full moon to the next. Twenty eight days.”

“How – ”

“And if there’s clouds in front of the moon that night, too bad. You have to start alllllllllll over.” She traced a line down her cheek as if to imitate a tear. “I told you this was hard when you signed up, girl. I’ve got ways to make this easier but it’s still a mighty challenge. First, we’re going to need to put you on a liquid diet. Which means either faking an illness, unlikely in this place, OR bribing the kitchen staff. As for weather, we’re going to need to figure out how to manipulate that. Not sure how yet.”

“We are Wizards,” said Sparrow. “We’ll figure it out. Um. Talking of signing up…”

“Yes?”

“What if someone else wanted to join on this venture?”

Jocasta took a deep breath. “Please, tell me you didn’t tell anyone about what we’re doing.”

“Just my friends. You know, the ones I trust absolutely? Anyway, Violet figured it out before I could say anything.”

Jocasta had her palm up to her face. “The more people we get involved in this, the more likely it is that our cover will be blown. You shouldn’t have told them what we were up to.”

“You wanted to let Jill in on this!”

“And she was the last one, besides maybe Miranda! The more people we have involved here the closer we are to being discovered. How many friends you do you have?”

“You, Jill, Cormac, Violet, and maybe Miranda. And Blaise. I’d like to think Filch is a friend but he’s more of a challenge.”

“That’s already too many! How is a ghost going to become an Animagus?”

“I didn’t say him! And he doesn’t know about this whole thing anyway, I’ve just been trying to sneak past him. Anyway, I have an idea. What if we blow our cover before it’s blown?”

“Excuse me?”

“Tell McGonagall. Get some help from a professional.”

“Tell the Headmistress of the Hogwarts? Are you insane?”

“She told me I could tell her about my troubles. You know her office was where I revealed my grand plan to the entire school, and she didn’t say no. Or yes. But she hasn’t expelled me or anything. So, I think she’s safe.”

“She’s safe about _your_ plan. She doesn’t know about this one! This is super goddamn illegal! No, we’re not telling her. And that’s that.”

“If you think it would spoil your sport, fine. Oh, talking of spoiling sports. Jill really wants you to stop your pranks.”

Jocasta pouted. “But I like pranks.”

“And Jill doesn’t like it when you do that. But, you know, you don’t like the ‘if you love me’ ultimatum, I don’t like it, but you’ll need to have this out with her sooner rather than later…and yet you’re worried about reconciling these issues anywhere besides the field of battle…so…I have an idea.”

“And that is…”

“Do you like duels?”

“Of course I – oh. _Oh._ ” Jocasta’s eyes widened. “Tell you what. Just for coming up with that, I will let you have ten extra minutes of practice here before we pay Miranda a visit.”

And they were ten minutes well spent.

…

“Mandrake leaves will be ready in a week’s time,” said Miranda. She was examining the stem of a Witch Hazel flower, entirely nonchalant where Jocasta and Sparrow were both extremely tense. While two slight Wizards could have fit with Miranda in the greenhouse, it was much harder to do without disturbing plants of unknown lethality.

“A week!” said Sparrow. “That’s seven days! I want it now.”

“Oh listen to you,” said Jocasta. “Rush rush rush. You can’t rush this, girl.”

“How do you have mandrakes on hand anyway?” said Sparrow. “Wait a second.” She glared at Jocasta. “How long have you two been setting this whole scheme up?”

“Don’t look at me!” said Jocasta. “Miranda here has been growing these things since the beginning of the school year! I just happened to know who to ask about the Animagus potion due to the advice of a friendly witch.” She nudged Sparrow. “Sometimes you do know what you’re doing.”

“Farther back than that,” said Miranda. “I have had Mandrakes growing since I was granted this greenhouse, nearly one year ago. Stewed Mandrake Root is the primary ingredient for antidotes, and don’t we all need those, yes? As do I. Especially if one of my experiments happens to go wrong. So – if I would be a Mistress of the Cauldron then I must know how to plant Mandrake, tend Mandrake, and safely harvest Mandrake.” She turned her head to give her companions a significant look. “I don’t put wards on this place because I’m worried about theft. ”

“So you have your antidote ingredients on hand,” said Jocasta. “And by sheer coincidence, the leaves of that very pant are the primary ingredient in polyjuice. How convenient.”

“Quite. Though if you are thinking of it cynically, do not. When I say my potions are only experimental, I mean that I document my experiments and give the records to Professor Longbottom.”

“Wait,” said Sparrow. “Does that mean he knows – ”

“He didn’t have to know about December’s incident.” Miranda glanced towards the door. “And he doesn’t have to. Maybe. I don’t know if I could bear the shame of him knowing. Jocasta, I must say I am not pleased to be your acquaintance right now.”

Jocasta looked nervous.

“Consider the situation.” Miranda finished examining her Witch Hazel, and turned around, casting a stone-faced gaze down upon the shivering witch. “I can inform my Professor of how I betrayed him, and thereby betray you. Or I can keep my mouth shut, and continue to break _his_ trust, and also slowly break down inside. Either way I feel like a cynical traitor right now.”

“For going behind his back one time?” said Jocasta, failing to hide her fear behind a smirk. “He’s just a teacher.”

“Who provides me with so much.”

“What, is he your Sugar Daddy or something?”

Miranda closed her eyes.

Sparrow nudged Jocasta to get her attention but the raven-haired witch continued speaking. “Does little Miranda not get enough love at home? Do you have mommy issues? Is that why you suck up to – ”

Miranda’s eyes opened.

In that moment, neither Sparrow nor Jocasta literally froze, nor indeed did the actual temperature in the greenhouse change. But the girls might as well have been frozen solid, and it might as well have been an arctic winter in there. For Miranda’s eyes showed not the pupil nor iris nor sclera of a human eye, nor indeed the shape of any living eye, but only an ice-blue glow, the glow of a glacier’s inner depths.

Sparrow had never seen such a color beyond the printed page. But, here it was. A color right out of an older world.

It was Sparrow who broke the ice first. “That’s twice I’ve seen such a thing in one day.”

Miranda frowned, and blinked. The glow faded. “Seen what now? Wait, why does everything look more orange all of a sudden? What happened?” She shook her head. “Never mind. Where were we? Oh, yes. Jocasta was giving me an extreme insult in the middle of my own greenhouse, after I thought I had made it clear that I was being extremely gracious in doing any further business with her.”

Jocasta remained frozen in place.

“Does she think it is possible to obtain spare mandrake leaves anywhere else?”

“Certainly not for a low price,” said Sparrow.

“Low price.” Miranda huffed. “Here’s the price. Jocasta doesn’t get to come in here anymore until we both go and apologize to Professor Longbottom for misusing his gift.”

“That’s…not the highest price.”

“And if you want any ingredients at all for the Animagus potion, then I am _absolutely_ going to tell the professor what we’re all up to.”

“Um – ”

“Because I have had it with tricks. I have had _enough_ of skulking, of sneaking, of going behind the back of the man who trusted me more than anyone else ever did. You have your honor and I have mine and for once Jocasta needs to learn what that means. Get it?”

Jocasta coughed.

Miranda did not turn her head to pay attention, nor act in any way like she had heard.

“Tricks and wiles and deceits,” said Jocasta. “If you attend the Dueling Club tonight, you may have your satisfaction for my crimes.”

Miranda turned back to her work and said nothing more.

Sparrow took Jocasta by the arm and led her out of the greenhouse.


	19. The Duel of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jill and Jocasta follow Sparrow's advice and sort out their disagreements in the way they know best.

“I don’t know why you even invited me here,” said Violet.

“Didn’t want you to miss out,” said Cormac. “That’s all.”

“Hush,” said Sparrow. “I have to make a speech.”

This evening, the colonnades of the Dueling Club Courtyard had filled nearly to the point of being a fire-safety hazard. Yet no student had dared venture out beyond the columns, until Sparrow had promised to protect the audience. That was enough for people to start filling the space close to the bridge, so that Sparrow could actually get through the crowd and out to the stage.

She didn’t know whether Jocasta or Jill had blabbed, but word had certainly spread fast in the space of two hours. Good heavens, it felt as though half the school was in attendance. Along with half the teachers. Including Rubeus Hagrid. And Hermetray Budge. And Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. And Madame Pomfrey.

Sparrow considered the possibility that, when she had informed her Headmistress of the event, a portrait had been hiding in its frame instead of following orders to vacate, and the word had spread from there.

Miranda stood in the far distance at the bridge, next to Hagrid. Had she blabbed? No, of all the people in the school Miranda was the least likely to gossip. She couldn’t exactly do it from inside a greenhouse.

Sparrow caught a glimpse of a high green pointy hat peeking over a rampart far above. Alright, so the information had spread far enough to reach Blaise. Which meant everyone in the castle was going to hear about how this all played out. Including what Sparrow said.

For a moment, she was frozen in terror. But then she realized – this was also her opportunity to perform. And to save someone else from harm.

She stepped out onto the dueling stage, pointed her wand at her throat and whispered, “ _Sonoroninus.”_ Then she turned to her audience.

“Friends!” she said, in a voice that none could miss. “Fellow students, teachers and all. You have come to see the thrill of battle, and some of you have come to be certain that none come to harm. For you have heard that tonight will be a match to remember, between two of the school’s foremost duelists. You have heard of a battle for glory, between Jillian Patil and Jocasta Carrow.”

The audience cheered and whistled.

“And yet – I will tell you the truth of this battle, as I understand it. As I have your attention now, I will invite you to consider love. For I have been told that you all hold it in high regard.”

The audience fell silent.

“To begin with, I offer an apology to Percival Bulstrode, for my childish slander against him. I will not seek to explain my reasons for sullying his reputation, because I do not believe they would excuse me, nor do I seek an excuse. All I wish to tell you is that, if any of you still believe he was unfaithful to his true love, you are mistaken, and I am the source of that mistake.”

Now the crowd started to murmur. And the murmurs did not sound happy.

“I have hoped that he has not been injured by anyone wielding righteous fury. How much of a fool I have been, for failing to consider that possibility, for failing to ask after his fate, knowing even in the moment that I had done him evil! Could I then say truthfully that I love him?”

Now the audience began to murmur excitedly.

“Could I say I love anyone? Could I say I love you all? It would be an assertion I had failed to support.”

Now the murmurs sounded confused.

“You all know me as the mad girl, the dent-head, Miss Jones of the Sky-High Pie. I can tell you that the things I have proposed, I have done out of love for all people. For all of you, some of whom I know, many of whom I do not know. I have feared for your futures, stifled by secrecy, stuffed within hidden alleys, cut off from your families in remote castles – if we grow up to be loving people out of such places it is because we love each other, and not because our lives are easy. How tempting for me to think a life lived openly would thus be joyous!

“And yet, if I assume such, if I inform none, if I try to change the world without so much as a by-your-leave, then all could perish. I could not say with any truth that I loved the people of the world, and then turn around and break all the walls down before knowing what the consensus might be.

“Nor, on the scale of this school, could I say I loved you all and remain as haughty as I have been. I confess that I looked down upon you all for your conduct, and so interposed myself in all conflicts, so that a protective habit became condescending. If you love each other then my shield need not be raised so often. I do not think you ever needed my shield as much as I gave it to you.

“Nor, on a personal level, could I say I loved you all while doing awful things to individual people, as I did to young Master Bulstrode, as I did to my dear Jocasta Carrow, as I did to my dear Cormac McKinnon, as I did to my dear Jillian Patil. If I can find a way to atone for my sins against my friends perhaps I can say in all truth that I love them.

“And that is one sort of love, the kind that is for all, like the flames of hearth fire in a happy home. Yet there is another, one I have felt myself, one you are all, perhaps, more experienced in considering. I speak to you of love tonight because I believe many of you are here to see such a thing play out here on the dueling stage.

“Call this Romance, call this Passion, call this what you will. To me it is the heat of a hearth fire when it catches new logs, and springs up bright, merry, roaring in joy. Quite a sight to behold, and dangerous to stand too close. Yes, I have been there. I am still there. But tonight is not my battle, nor do those who own this battle compete for my hand – oh no! That would make this more easy. No, they compete for each other, against each other.”

Again the murmurs were confused.

“For lately love has begun to spring up between them. Or can I say, it has smoldered for some time? Only now does it begin to burn bright. And yet – they each come to the relationship with questions un-answered, issues not yet reconciled. And each of them is just a little too nervous about each other to reconcile those issues…save when they stand here, the dueling stage, the heart of their power.”

Students who had been pestering each other, yawning in boredom, fiddling with their nails, laughing at jokes, now stood in rapt attention.

“They decided to have out their issues here, on the field of battle. But this is no mere grudge match! Oh no! For each of them has wagered upon this duel some things that are dear to them.”

From the crowd arose a low rumble of laughter. Some people were pointing to Sparrow.

“No, they did not wager me. That would be quite romantic, would it not?"

The crowd was full of laughter.

"But they need not compete for my hand. They already have my hands."

Now the crowd was full of laughter and wolf whistles.

"As I say, they did not wager me. No, they have wagered their future courses of action. Whoever is the victor shall gain one price from the other. Jillian! Will you please come to the stage.”

Jill stepped out, striding tall and proud. Many in the crowd clapped and whistled for her.

“Jillian the Roaring Dragon! Fearsome is her flame and many of you have quavered before it. If she is victorious, she asks that Jocasta no longer play pranks upon the people of the school.”

From the crowd arose a gasp.

“Jocasta! Will you please come to the stage.”

Jocasta pranced her way out to Sparrow, grinning like a madman, as many in the crowd cheered for her.

“Jocasta of the Swift Wings! The clever duck, the darting fox, the floating butterfly, the stinging bee! Many of you have felt her sting! If she is victorious, she asks that Jill no longer attend the Dueling Club.”

Now the entire crowd gasped.

“For each has injured others with such careless actions! By fire hurled with abandon, by frame-ups through impersonation! And yet, if either would cease such conduct, they would feel they had lost parts of themselves, and they would return to such behavior once more. So they have wagered these parts of themselves, in order that a loss on the field of battle will better bind them to the promise, for the honor of the battlefield is central to their souls. Now, will the members of the dueling club please make themselves known!”

Thirty students stepped out from between the columns. They were greeted with much applause, though none of it came from the teachers.

“The senior members of the club will serve as referees, and resolve any disputes that may arise. I do not expect such reconciliation to be necessary, but please do not obstruct their views of the battle, lest the validity of this fight be disputed. We begin in a moment.”

The members of the dueling club stepped backward, standing between the columns instead of hanging back within the colonnade. Sparrow pointed her wand at her throat and whispered, “ _Quietus_.”

Then she turned to Jocasta, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Please,” she said. “Give this fight your all. If you have any thought of throwing the match, let it pass away.”

Jocasta snorted. “Kinda sounds like you’re impugning my honor.”

Sparrow turned to Jill.

“You have nothing to fear from me either,” said Jill. “And I am glad that you want this fight to be completely real. I was a little worried you had turned a private conflict into a Professional Wrestling match with all your theatrics.”

“I fear the audience has done so already,” said Sparrow. “They expected a grand narrative, I gave them one. Was any part of it false?”

“No part,” said Jocasta. “Just a little overdone.”

“You will both give your all, then?”

“I will do my best,” said Jill. “Pray you never see my all.”

“I’m just praying she keeps that shield up,” said Jocasta.

Sparrow left the stage, and took her place between the columns. She raised her wand and shouted, “ _PROTEGO!_ ”

What sprang up within the courtyard was not quite like any shield Sparrow had ever done. It was not a plane, nor a dome, but a cylinder, whose top was either lost in the clouds or not there at all. It was far more translucent than usual, thereby affording a better view to all spectators. It was an oval cylinder, wide enough to touch both rows of columns, long enough to reach from the audience at the bridge to the stone wall behind the stage.

It was also the first shield in two years that gave Sparrow any sense of requiring effort to sustain.

Uh oh.

Jill and Jocasta were holding their wands pointed to the ground and bowing to each other. Well, no calling things off now. The fun was about to begin and so was hers.

The fun began with an explosion.

That was the easiest way to describe it – that in the space of a short breath the column was filled from end to end with a swirl of fire, as high as three windows above the courtyard. The shock of the impact sent a shiver down Sparrow’s arm and into her spine, nearly causing her to lose control of the shield. It was by slim chance that she managed to keep her grip on her wand.

In that same moment, the audience shrank back, wondering if they themselves had got in over their heads. But they could see the fire splash against the shield, and terrified cries gave way to excited ones, as the fireball itself died down.

And when it did, Sparrow had a moment of dread, for there stood Jill, and Jocasta was nowhere to be found.

Until she appeared out of thin air behind Jill and fired off a stunning spell. Ah, that was Jocasta. Never where you expected. The audience cheered her reappearance, and people started talking about how she appeared to have mastered apparition.

Jill dodged the stunning spell by a hair’s breadth and then fired off her own. A wild miss, or so it seemed, until it ricocheted against the shield and straight at Jocasta’s back. But she had already vanished, and appeared behind Jill to try the same trick again.

Again Jill dodged the stunner. And again. And again. Each time by a fraction of a second. Sparrow began to think she would lose soon. The girl looked like she was breathing heavily already. She must have used up too much energy in her opening gambit. And yet Jocasta was also breathing heavily. She was not apparating around the field – that was impossible. She was transfiguring herself, again and again. Too much. It had to be more work than it looked like, especially to change so much mass in an instant. So both of the girls had tried new gambits that they couldn’t handle for too long, and were forced to keep trying them because they were evenly matched.

And in the meantime, Sparrow was steadily losing strength from the way she had overestimated her own abilities. She hoped one of the combatants would fall soon.

Yet neither would surrender so easily. A new gambit began, with Jill firing off stunners at random directions every second, filling the whole courtyard with ricochets of red light. Perhaps she hoped to stun Jocasta a moment before she herself was stunned, and leave the final decision to the referees after all.

And yet – still she had enough strength left to toss herself down on the ground and dodge the cage of red beams. And Jocasta had enough left in her to continue transfiguring. Sparrow had to hope that nobody else in the audience would put two and two together, and realize Jocasta was an Animagus. She also had to endure a slight increase in the effort that the shield took to maintain, as it suffered the impacts of dozens of spells at once.

At the end of that attack, there stood Jocasta once more, breathing heavily, enough to make it obvious from a distance. And she was breathing more heavily than Jill, whose time on the ground had allowed her to rest a moment, to regain a slight bit of wind.

Perhaps that was Jill’s real gambit, then. A game of attrition. Jocasta had always won against Jill by winning the game of attrition, because she was deft enough with her dodging and her shields to put as little effort as she needed to in the act of weaving through a hail of fire. And Jill always preferred the use of straightforward overwhelming force, instead of deceit, so she was never able to wear down her opponent fast enough before Jocasta saw an opening.

But this time, she had thrown Jocasta off-balance with an overwhelming force from all directions at once, forcing the girl to rely on a more costly strategy from the outset, keeping her on her toes so she would keep clinging to that method, thereby wearing the girl down in minutes instead of hours.

But that depended on keeping her on her toes, which meant a constant barrage. If she paused, it gave Jocasta a second to think.

And Jill let that second pass. So Jocasta was able to take the initiative. She fired a stunner at Jill, who rolled out of the way just in time. Then another, and another. Now Jill was being led into the more costly strategy, unable to rise and suffering the blows of the stone itself as she kept out of the way. Now Jocasta was breathing more easily where Jill was losing ground.

That was, until Jill did not dodge.

Jocasta was forced to dodge this time, for Jill had managed to cast a shield – no larger than a hand, yet placed in just the right spot, at just the right angle. Clearly Jocasta wasn’t expecting it. Nobody was. Jillian Patil, the Roaring Dragon of the Mountain, did not cast defensive spells. And yet there it was.

So, Jocasta was forced to dodge by transfiguring again. Which was precisely the moment Jill had been waiting for.

“ _VENTUS!”_

It was not as if a breath stirred outside the shield. But everyone on the outside could see the swirling dust and straw of the courtyard, and they could hear the roar of the wind. They could see it nearly pick up Jill from her supine position. Whatever must have been happening to the poor fly within? Perhaps it was getting dizzy. Whatever the case it was much too dangerous for a fly, so Jocasta appeared out of the air in the next moment.

Which is to say, she appeared _in_ the air. She was hardly weighty enough to avoid being lifted by it. And oh my yes, she did look dizzy.

But Jill was not looking at Jocasta, for she remained facedown, wand up, perhaps believing that would be enough for now. So Jocasta had enough time to recover from the dizziness that she could simply float around in the tornado, firing spells from every direction without having to waste energy on movement.

Of course by that point Jill had realized what was going on and was deflecting everything. My, she had improved her defensive technique quite a bit from the beginning point of having none. And in such a short time.

Sparrow was desperate for one of them to end the fight now. She was beginning to shiver all over with the effort of maintaining her shield. She nearly dropped her wand before Cormac came up by her side and helped her keep her arm steady. And then Violet stood next to her on the other side and put a hand on her shoulder. At that she began to get her second wind.

And at the same time, the whirlwind continued. Why? What was the point, if it was giving Jocasta the advantage? Why would Jill bother to maintain – oh.

Jill had finally learned to anticipate where Jocasta would be. She had dodged one last spell, grabbed the girl by the hand, dragged her close and kissed her hard on the mouth.

Humph. Without even asking. Well, Jocasta clearly didn’t seem to mind. Nor did Sparrow, who let the shield fall at last. Nor did the crowd seem to mind, judging by the whistles.

“FOUL!” yelled one of the referees.

Oh come on now.

The crowd was now grumbling. Some of them were insulting the referee. Neither Jocasta nor Jill looked happy to be hearing this either.

“Illegal use of non-spell effects for dueling purposes,” said the referee, a 7th-year Slytherin by the name of Felonius Fimblewinter.

“Seriously?” said Jill.

“Its in the rules,” said Jocasta. “Section 9a, as I recall?” She let go of Jill and strode over to the referee. “But my dear Mister Fimblewinter, that kiss did not break the rule as it is written, surely? A kiss is hardly combative. I would say this match has ended in a draw.”

Felonius went to consult with the other referees. They discussed the matter for a few seconds. One of them giggled.

“My dear Miss Carrow,” said Felonius. “Tell me truly now. Was it a French kiss?”

“Why, um. Yes.”

“Then the decision of the referees is that your tongues were battling for dominance, and that it therefore counts as combative. So the fight must begin again.”

A peal of laughter went up from the audience. Jocasta turned beet red. Jill’s face was flushed.

Beside Sparrow, Cormac was looking like he was trying to hold in his own laughter, and suffering for it. Sparrow nudged him. That set him off. Meanwhile, Violet had a much more solid poker face. But she also had a bare hint of a smile.

Sparrow wasn’t sure whether to feel like laughing or crying, because it meant she had to raise the damn shield again. She slumped onto Violet’s shoulder and said, “Cormac, can you please go deliver a message to those two?”

So the crowd was forced to endure yet another timeout while Cormac spoke to the combatants. Everyone was getting impatient now. Why wasn’t the shield up? And why was Jill walking towards the bridge? And why was Jocasta walking towards the wall? Were they breaking up or something? Already? No way. And wait a second, why were Jill's eyes glowing red? And why were Jocasta's eyes glowing green? Were they both going to explode? Where the hell was the shield? Alright so the two girls were facing each other at a real long distance, maybe they were going to snipe each other with stunners –

In the next instant two streaks of light, one red and one green, had crossed paths in the precise midpoint of the courtyard. Jocasta now stood where Jill had started, facing the bridge. Jill now stood where Jocasta had started, facing the wall.

For a moment, no one spoke. Jill was doubled over as if in pain. 

But then she rose.

And held two wands aloft.

If anyone in the castle was not attending the duel that evening, they may have been close enough to watch the initial proceedings. Or they may have been father away, and wondered where those flashes of light and gouts of fire were coming from. But it would have taken quite a bit of distance from the dueling Courtyard for one to avoid hearing the crowd, as it roared for Jill’s victory. And even those too far to hear a faint hint of the noise might have noticed a slight tremor in the floor.

As for what was occurring in the courtyard, Jocasta had staggered through the crowd and then fallen to her knees before Miranda, just for the sake of dramatic effect. Jill was still standing, barely, because she wanted to keep up appearances, but she did not have to put in much effort because there was a crowd of people supporting her. Cormac was in the crowd, hollering with everyone else. Violet had remained by Sparrow’s side, in case the girl started to vomit blood.

And Sparrow decided that it was a perfect time to fall asleep.


	20. Huzzah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparrow's morning gets a little loud.

Morning. Something bright through Sparrow’s closed eyes. Sunlight. And a palm brushing her cheek.

“Mneh?”

“Morning sleepyhead. Three cheers to my brave little barrier witch.”

Sparrow leaned her head into Jill’s palm.

“My clever little conflict-resolver.”

“G’mornin.” Sparrow yawned. “M’valian’…knight of the…giant fireball’n stuff. Roarin’ dragon.” She slowly opened her eyes.

There sat Jill beside her. She had her legs over the side of the bed, as if she’d just sat down. She also had her school robes on.

And the rest of the room was empty.

If Jill had not been sitting on top of the covers in a way that pinned Sparrow under them, she might have jumped out of them high enough to strike her head on the top of the four-poster. “How many classes have I missed?” said Sparrow. “What time is it? I was supposed to hand in that essay to Slughorn today. Boy am I in trouble. Why didn’t you – ”

“Relax,” said Jill. “Sleep as much as you need. I told the Headmistress you might need quite a bit more than usual. Remember when you tried to hold up all those rocks at once and then you were out cold until next afternoon?”

“Forgot that part.”

“So McGonagall said she’d give you until noon.”

“Hmmmmm.” Sparrow closed her eyes and nestled up closer to Jill. “But what if you stay here next to me all day and I sleep allll day and never want to wake up at all? Does she give me a detention?”

“She tells Madame Pomfrey to make sure you don’t have a serious medical condition after all.”

“Oh. Well, phoo.”

“It’s ten of the clock now,” said Jill. “I was granted as much time as it took to see you wake. But I must be going now.”

“Nooooooooo. Stay.”

“I _should_ be going now. Oh, but it’s _so_ tempting to sit here in the sunlight with my love.”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, but there are other people who love you, my dear. Who wish to see you alive again. One in particular.” Jill stood up from the bed and strode to the door.

“Well why didn’t she come in then?”

“She said she had limits to her transgressions after all. Something about honor. But I think she would be amused to know that I got you out of bed by telling you she’s in the common room.”

This time Sparrow did not leap out of her bed, so much as she threw herself out of it sideways, and had her school robes on before Jill had even finished closing the door. She had her hand on the knob before she halted, brushed herself off, composed her posture, and prepared to step out the door. Thank goodness there would be few students in the common room at this hour. She didn’t want anyone making a fuss over her own actions last night. Such a long speech! She might have stolen all the thunder from that duel if Jill hadn’t added three extra helpings of thunder. But she would have time to compose her thoughts this Friday, instead of dealing with everyone’s reaction.

She opened the door and remembered that Friday was yesterday.

What looked like every Hufflepuff student was there in the common room, standing on the main floor, standing in front of their doors, standing on the stairs. At Sparrow’s appearance the room erupted with cheers and hollers.

Sparrow’s face felt quite hot as she regained her composure. All this adulation! All for her! Really. What an awful fuss. She hadn’t even told the audience that she had come up with the concept for the match. She had been very careful to avoid revealing that fact, in case she made it sound like it was her evening. She had only wanted to be seen as the introductory speaker.

So, as she descended the stairs with formal poise, and strode to the center of the common room, she spent quite a bit more time getting there than she normally would. She shook many hands, and asked a fair few times why everyone was giving her all this celebration, when she wasn’t even part of the duel. And the answer, as she picked up in bits and pieces, was that everyone came to the match knowing it was Sparrow’s idea. More to the point, she was most certainly part of the duel, because she had been the one protecting everyone else, and, by the authoritative account from Violet Brown, she had effectively been fighting her own quiet battle against her own limits. And then she was out cold before anyone had been able to thank her for anything. So, here it was concentrated on this morning.

Fair enough. No sense dismissing sincere gratitude, especially not from her dear fellow students. Sparrow felt that her evening had been a battle because of her own poor planning, but the result was the same. Everyone lived. Everyone went home happy. Even the vanquished Jocasta Carrow.

She was the reason Sparrow was making a direct path to the center of the common room, for Sparrow had spotted her from the top of the staircase. She had to be there still, yes? Unless she had disappeared once more. But that would have been a mean prank.

It was a little hard to get through everyone who wanted to shake her hand, and Sparrow was anxious to find Jocasta. Jill was easy to find, there she was ten feet away, but where was Jocasta? She asked a tall 6th-year girl by the name of Cleo Sasoon if she could spot the girl anywhere in the crowd. But Cleo only said _Places everyone._

Suddenly there was a corridor in the crowd, two lines of students standing at attention, facing each other, wands raised in high salute to form an arch.

And there at the end, just before a sudden bubble of space, stood Jillian Patil, with a wry grin on her face. She bowed as she stepped aside and gestured to the center of the bubble, as if silently inviting Sparrow to proceed.

And there in the center stood Jocasta Carrow, posture upright, arms held at parade rest, eyes fixed on Sparrow, wearing no expression at all.

Sparrow did not let her own poker face fall, but strode towards Jocasta with deliberate grace, her back held straight, hands clasped in front of her, as if she were a princess at a royal occasion.

Upon reaching her, she took Jocasta’s offered hand, and kissed it. Then she kissed her wrist. Then above her wrist. Then at her elbow. Then above the elbow. And so worked her way upwards, while the students around her murmured in a tone that spoke of something besides dignified chastity. Which was fair enough. Especially when Sparrow stopped at Jocasta’s neck.

“Oh my,” said Jocasta. “My suitor is so _dashing_.”

Sparrow stood up straight. “Come now, my sweet. You were far more dashing last night.”

“Oh!” said Jocasta, putting the back of her hand to her forehead and closing her eyes. “Not dashing enough, I fear. My dear Sparrow, I was _robbed!_ Some glowing red creature _stole_ my wand!”

“Did she give it back?”

“After I wrestled with her a bit, yes.”

Sparrow turned to Jill, who was standing at the edge of the ring of students, looking innocent. “Jill, did you – ”

“I said a _bit._ ” Jocasta rolled her eyes. “I’m not _that_ precocious. Sheesh! You know me well enough.”

“Hm.” Sparrow turned herself around to stand by Jocasta’s side. “I daresay we will get to know each other much better as time goes on.” She beckoned Jill over to stand by Jocasta’s other side. As one, they bowed.

…

By evening the crowd had long since dispersed, which was as much as Sparrow wanted, for she had to deal with a substantial amount of hearty congratluations when she ventured out at lunch.

There by the fire, in his usual chair, with his old ukulele, sat Cormac.

Sparrow took a seat in front of the fire. “I didn’t see you in the crowd this morning.”

Cormac shrugged. “I figured you didn’t want me to add any more fuss to your day.”

“Boy, it’s like you read my mind or something.”

“I know you well enough.”

Sparrow was glad that Cormac couldn’t actually read her mind in that moment.


	21. Fireside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparrow has a couple fireside chats, the second one partially to recover from the first.

The next week was interminable.

For one thing, the mandrake leaf was coming at the end, and Sparrow had to cope with the sheer anticipation.

Furthermore, the specific truth of what Sparrow wanted was being lost amidst wild rumors, despite her magnificent speech. Some were saying that she wanted all wizards to marry a muggle. Well, that one was probably from the Slytherins. Some were saying that she wanted to overthrow the Wizarding government and fling curses over all the earth. Some were saying that she wanted to slaughter all the muggles so that there would only be Wizards left.

Sparrow began to worry that the rumors would get out of hand. Yet, if a speech to half the student body didn’t work, then nothing would. She could only hope that everyone would remember what she said about love, and that they understood she would never do anything that she thought would harm people.

Unfortunately some of the students had now got the idea that Sparrow was romantically attracted to everyone in the school. Which was not aided in any way by the fact that everyone knew she was dating two people. She wasn’t, exactly, not at the moment, not yet, but she had indicated such in her speech, hadn't she? And the terrible thing about rumor is that people who spread rumors are interested in sensational concepts, not mitigating details. So, on top of Sparrow’s anticipation of the mandrake leaf, she had to worry about being buried in love letters once February rolled around.

And it didn’t help that there were still people who wanted to give her a hearty handshake, if they hadn’t had the chance already. Really, now. Didn’t these people have classes to attend?

It was only partly to take her mind off such troubles that Sparrow was diligent when it came to attending practice sessions with Jocasta. She studied hard and paid attention, and learned much, and had quite a bit of fun. And Jocasta has having quite a bit of fun with her.

As a result, they quite forgot to attend to necessary tasks for a few days. It did not take much effort to get the kitchen staff to put Sparrow on a liquid diet, as a rudimentary reference to Sparrow’s madness was enough to get them on board. Some people will drop anything to help solve someone else’s problem, especially someone who arranged such a wonderful duel, talk of the entire kitchen staff, best thing they’d seen in years, please marry my daughter.

Both Sparrow and Jocasta had said “yes” to that request at the same time, mostly as a joke. Hopefully the kitchen staff took it that way.

“Oh I don’t know,” said Headmistress McGonagall. She sipped her tea. “For all I know, you would come to enjoy having yet another pretty young lady for your harem.”

The fire in the hearth burned warm, but it was not the fire that was making Sparrow’s face feel hot, nor the tea. “Let’s leave that issue aside for now,” she said, and she set her tea down. “Personal matters anyway.”

“Ah,” said the Headmistress. “If that is what you wish. You prefer to speak of business?”

“That is why I called upon you. I mean – you’re the headmistress and you’re busy and all, with…Headmistress stuff. I don’t know. Administering curriculums and the like.”

“Didn’t feel you had the right to ask me for a friendly chat, eh?”

“Not if it would take time out of your paperwork, no. I feel as though I was…impudent, in December. Requesting an audience on short notice.”

“And you think I would mind being taken away from my paperwork.” She sipped her tea. “Ha! Nobody likes the paperwork, dearie. Not even the adults who design it. Now, what are you here to ask me about?”

“I’m thinking I…might have went a little overboard with the whole dueling thing. Risked people’s lives for a spectacle that I couldn’t actually contain. And all that. Started to arrange the whole thing before actually asking your permission. And then went and…talked about the Statute of Secrecy in front of half the school with a magically amplified voice.”

“Oh dearie me,” said McGonagall. “You violated one of my strict stipulations.” She winked.

“You don’t mind that I did all that?”

“I appreciated seeing a demonstration of the level of skill that two of my students had achieved in their extracurricular activities, as well as a wonderful spectacle, a thrilling narrative, and something to distract the student body from getting up to mischief for at least a few hours.”

“But the danger…I mean, I barely contained it.”

McGonagall set her tea down. “Miss Jones. How much have you heard about the Triwizard Tournament?”

“Harry Potter got tossed into the competition by accident, completed deadly challenges like a clever duck, and then won the whole thing.”

“I mean the first time it was stopped. Back in the 1792.”

Sparrow thought back to her History of Magic classes. “Oh, yes. It was because someone died in the tournament.”

“No.”

“Two people died?”

McGonagall wore a stony expression. “People died during that tournament, yes. As they did in previous tournaments. But I believe it was because the cockatrice attacked the judges. Oh, _then_ they realized things were getting out of hand.”

“And then…” Sparrow drummed her fingers on the setee. “They started it up again centuries later…and Harry Potter nearly got killed…and then nearly died again…and got kidnapped by Voldemort…and his friend got killed by Voldemort…alright, so that explains part of why they only started the whole thing up again recently.”

“Precisely. We’re more squeamish about the deaths of our children now. But, not so much that parents are picky about what goes on around here. And I allow some leeway so that the children learn practical defense in the wild, so to speak. Far more than you do.”

Sparrow pursed her lips.

“In the sense that I allow the dueling club to continue its activities. And oh, there have been times when the children have gone too far. Too many injuries. Burns, lacerations, splinchings. I had to get the club to prohibit certain spells, or else Madame Pomfrey might be overwhelmed! She already has to deal with the results of magical accidents on a daily basis.”

“Kinda wish I could save people from those too.”

“Don’t we all. And yet – here we are, shut up in a castle full of children, giving them all tools of great power…it is not quite like Muggles putting a pack of children in a school and giving them all electric drills, but you can see what I mean about danger being a part of our lives. So, when it came to your little duel, I would say that does not reach the heights of peril I have seen around here.”

“Um.”

“I imagine you of all people would not find that reassuring.”

“Indeed not. I mean I know the heights of peril around here have a pretty high bar to clear, but in non-wartime circumstances – ”

“Basilisks in the walls.”

“Okay, I know about that one.”

“A teacher who had Voldemort hidden in his own Turban.”

“Not that it did him any good.”

“Death eaters who were able to infiltrate the school through a magical cabinet.”

“I’d call that wartime circumstances.”

“The time the Ministry sent Dementors to guard the castle.”

“They did WHAT?”

The physical substance of the portraits did not rattle in their frames, but the portraits themselves were rather rattled for being shouted awake. McGonagall gave Sparrow a pointed look.

Sparrow felt like she had quite a bit more to add but she thought better of it.

“The worst part is that their parents didn’t even object like they objected to the basilisk. So, you can see the top level of danger the Wizarding world allows its children, and it’s quite a bit higher than you allow. Now that I think of it – Friday’s duel wasn’t even the most dangerous moment in your life here. Unless you met with something worse than all those falling stones?”

Sparrow thought back to the incident with the Forbidden Section of the library. And the incident with the Nark. “No,” she said. “Nothing worse than the rocks.”

“Moreover – I do not wish to burst your bubble, but Friday’s match was not the most spectacular Wizarding duel I’ve ever seen. A wonderful spectacle, yes. Up there with the professionals. But not the grandest.”

Sparrow’s posture shrank slightly as if she was deflating.

“And yet, yes, potentially hazardous to the audience. Thank goodness we had you around, hm? Casting a spell all by herself that usually requires ten Wizards to weave wards for a week? My my. You’re already above the professionals. In skill, if not endurance. Someone informed me that you fainted from exhaustion?”

“I’d say I fell asleep before my bedtime, but yes. And then slept until the mid-morning.”

“Well. Thank goodness it happened on a Friday, or you might have missed a few classes.”

Sparrow pursed her lips.

“Something wrong, dearie?”

“It’s nothing. Thank you for giving me some perspective regarding the scale of my actions. And…in regards to the Statute of Secrecy, I have not made any developments on that front, but I do believe in what I said to the students. That I must gain a real consensus before daring to continue.”

“I see.” The Headmistress placed her hands on her lap. “Democracy, eh? Well. I wonder if I ought to dare to broach the subject with the Ministry. I might find myself in peril from many sneaking assassins! Then you would be quite handy to have around.”

“That’s one half of the issue,” said Sparrow. “The other half is obtaining a consensus from Muggles about whether they’d actually want to have the chance to wield Wizard Magic.”

“That would violate the Statute of Secrecy all by itself, now wouldn’t it?”

“Depending on how I worded the question. But yes. It would. I can’t actually _talk_ to muggles about any of this without breaking the law. But if I don’t then ending the age-old Secrecy might be too much for them to handle. But if I keep up the age-old Secrecy then they continue to suffer and die. It’s a terrible dilemma.”

“I can’t help you break the law,” said McGonagall. “Nor condone illegality.”

“I know.” Sparrow rose from her seat. “Many questions remain to be asked and answered. If you wish to broach this subject to the Ministry…I have to figure out if I’m ready for whatever deadly force they employ in taking me seriously. I will let you know.”

“All in good time,” said McGonagall. “Time you were getting to bed anyway.” She rose, and escorted Sparrow to the staircase.

As Sparrow descended the stairs, she felt a little ashamed to be keeping the full truth of her plans hidden from a friendly elder. But such plans would have no chance of success without that silence.

Right?

…

The standard four-poster beds of Hogwarts were adequately comfortable. But they did not match the embrace of Jillian Patil for comfort, nor for warmth. At least not in Sparrow’s estimation. She didn’t even need to be in front of the fire to feel warm. All she needed was to be here by Jill’s side, under her mighty arm like a chick under a hen’s wing. She’d feel warm doing that anywhere, even in a cold driving rain.

“Do you feel less queasy now?” said Jill.

“Oh yes.” Sparrow let out a deep breath and closed her eyes. “But if I leave? Then I might feel queasy again. I might have to stay here allllllllllll night.”

“I do have to sleep eventually.”

“Sleep here.”

“Tempting. I might get pins and needles in my leg though.”

“Carry me to your bed then?”

“Tempting. But I’d feel a lot less awkward doing that if we had a room to ourselves. You know how I am about feeling embarrassed. And Dorm Room 6 hasn’t shown up again.”

“Aw. You can’t even bring Jocasta to your bed?”

“Sparrow, she’s a Slytherin. What exactly do you think happens if people notice her waking up in a Hufflepuff dormitory bed next to me?”

“ _Mrrrowr_.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of cooing over True Love. Or yelling at us for violating dormitory rules. Possibly both. There _are_ non-sexual reasons to sleep next to somebody in bed, my dear."

"Yeah but —" Sparrow yawned. "We're talking about Jocasta."

"Okay, fair enough. I um. I did get a chance to understand exactly where you're coming from. With that statement."

"How many times?"

"Just once so far."

"Aw."

There was a small _thump_. Sparrow opened her eyes. Jocasta was standing between them and the fire.

“Hey girl,” said Jill. “How did it go?”

“Arm.”

“Hm?”

Jocasta grabbed Jill’s left arm and tried to lift it. Jill got the hint and did the work for her. So there were now two chicks under Jill’s wings.

Jocasta snuggled a bit deeper into Jill's embrace. “I don’t know what to say about it really.”

“Was Miranda with you?”

“Wouldn’t have managed it without her.”

“Did Professor Longbottom say anything?”

“Not much.”

“Did he look angry?”

“No. He didn’t smile with his mouth but I think he was smiling with his eyes.”

“Do you feel relieved?”

“I don’t know. Still a little tense. A lot tense. If he blabs about the Animagus potion…I have to hope that he likes Miranda enough to not do that.”

“I bet he won’t blab,” said Sparrow.

“Can you be certain?” said Jocasta.

“Well, I think if he didn’t look mad and he didn’t look worried…heh. He was part of Dumbledore’s Army. He knows about being a rebel with a cause. I bet he’s enjoying the chance to be Cool again.”

“To be Wicked,” said Jill. “Miranda would know if we were right. But hey, she recommended him. Did he make any recommendations?”

“Oh yes,” said Jocasta. “He said talk to McGonagall.”

“Hm,” said Sparrow. "And you don't want to."

"Absolutely one hundred percent definitely not," said Jocasta.

“Might be wise,” said Jill.

“She’d make us register,” said Sparrow. “That blows the whole plan out of the water.”

“Talking of which,” said Jill, “Does Longbottom know we’re doing this illegally?”

“Um – ”

“Jocasta. Please tell me you didn’t leave out that part.”

“He knows we’re doing this on the sly, I told him.”

“But he sent you to McGonagall.”

“Maybe,” said Sparrow, “He’s trying to gently steer us away from an illegal course of action without hurting Miranda’s feelings.”

“We have to talk to Miranda about this at some point,” said Jill. “I feel a little uneasy getting a Hogwarts teacher involved in something this super goddamn illegal.”

“Oh,” said Jocasta, “just a little?”

“I could get all cynical,” said Sparrow. “I bet Longbottom thinks he’s safe because he controls all the potion ingredients, mwa ha ha ha ha.”

“Very cynical,” said Jocasta. “And not out of the realm of possibility here.”

“Doesn’t make me feel any better though.”

“Likewise.”

“I have to go to bed soon,” said Jill.

“Noooooooo,” said Sparrow.

“Stayyyyyyyy,” said Jocasta.

“Oh,” said Jill. “But maybe Sparrow doesn’t _want_ me to stay after the trick I played.”

“You got me good,” said Sparrow.

“Flawless execution,” said Jocasta.

"Please," said Jill. "I just spotted an opportunity, that's all."

"And you executed it flawlessley with no time to rehearse," said Jocasta. "Couldn't have done it better myself. The look on Sparrow's face when she stepped out the door, I shall treasure forever. I shall use it to cast a patronus. Did I tell you I love you?"

"Not today yet," said Jill.

“Were you gonna call Madam Pomfrey though?” said Sparrow.

“If you had slept past noon?” said Jill. “Yes. I would have. You’re always up before me, Sparrow. I did have to worry about you slipping into a coma, if you were asleep past the mid-morning.”

“Well then.” Sparrow snuggled a little deeper into Jill's embrace. “If you're so protective, why should you leave me now?”

"Because my arms might fall asleep?"

"That's not a problem if the rest of you also falls asleep."

“Because I’ve been sitting on my wand this entire time and I would like to go to my own bed so that I can stop worrying about the stupid thing?”

“But if you stand up,” said Sparrow, “then the wand will come flying at me.”

“Hush now, and I will settle that matter.”

Jill closed her eyes. For a few minutes she said no words, only breathed deeply, in, out, in. Then she opened her eyes. She gave Sparrow a kiss on her head, and Jocasta a kiss for hers. Then she lifted her arms and let the two girls go, and rose, taking up her wand and departing to her dorm.

Sparrow and Jocasta were left to take comfort in each other’s arms, which they did. They remained there as the logs burned down, down to the last embers.

“Sparrow?”

“Hm?”

“You said you looked really deep into Jill’s eyes.”

“Yeah I did.”

“And you saw things on fire?”

“Kinda looked like it, yeah.”

“And she looked into your eyes.”

“Sure did.”

“Did she ever tell you what she saw?”

“She said she saw the gleam of a knight's armor.”

“Yeah.” Jocasta pressed herself a bit closer to Sparrow, and hugged her a bit more tightly. “Sounds about right.”

…

It was almost time for the mandrake leaf. But there was yet another vexing issue to consider that Sparrow didn’t know how to resolve. And that was the weather. The daily and nightly rain. She didn’t know how to clear the skies and ensure a full moon when she needed it.

She wasn’t sure if she should even do so. If there was some spirit on high looking down upon the proceedings and seeing that all the boxes were checked, and that she had done everything properly, why then, they would think that weather manipulation was some kind of cheating, and perhaps turn Sparrow into a newt forever, or turn her skin to stone. It was possible that, if Sparrow were to cry “Ventus” to the heavens and blast a hole in the clouds, it would lead her to ruin.

On the other hand, what gods were there, if any? Magic did not come from beseeching any sort of great spirit, nor, indeed, had Sparrow ever, in her entire life, heard a Wizard make reference to one. Magic came from wands, everyone knew that. You made a wand with wandwood and a magical core and there it was. No ritual necessary. Magic did not come from on high; it came from something on earth, apparently. But what it was, Sparrow could not say.

Did it think? Did it watch? Did it disapprove? Wands thought, in their own way, and felt, if Cormac was to be believed. But they did not produce magic, only channeled it. There was such a thing as wandless magic. It was some force living outside the wand, perhaps outside the body as well, for there were more magical creatures in the world than Wizards. Yet who had thought to ask where it came from?

Sparrow thought back to her previous attempts with the library, and her confusion as to what subject area this question would be found in. She had given up upon hearing that the books of advanced theoretical magic were at the Ministry. Perhaps she had given up too easily. The act of asking a question could just as easily be recorded in the ancient history. Or in the modern history.

So, close to the end of the week, Sparrow spent an entire lunch hour in the library, cross-checking historical references to magical theory. And she hit a wall again. Not only had a formal effort of Magical Theory arisen recently, thus limiting the amount of time to ask the fundamental questions, it had always been done through the offices of the Department of Mysteries. There were, in fact, plenty of wizards who had been asking such questions. And they were all called Unspeakables, and forbidden to divulge their secrets to outsiders. It was the same wall she had run into as before, only, it extended into the History section as well. The Ministry, it seemed, wanted to limit the power of Wizards. It wanted them to do magic well, but only the magic that it divulged. The fundamental nature of their world, that was off-limits.

Phooey.

Sparrow sat at a table, put her head in her hands, and thought. What if there was no God but God, after all? And did he even care about anything anyone was doing? Dark Wizards tended to get away with their dark magic until the Aurors came, so it wasn’t as though there were demonic spirits, waiting to punish a wizard for hubris, nor angels on high seeking out evil to vanquish. There were creatures called demons, to be sure, and yet…they were all corporeal. Solid things.

There were spirits. Yet they, too, seemed to arise from earth, and be bound to it. Dementors, for all that they made people shudder, seemed to have no connection or reference to Hell. Ghosts made no reference to heaven. Caipora, well, they ran around jungles and bothered people, as poltergeists ran around castles and bothered people.

There was no cosmic scale, as far as she could tell. There was nobody trying to balance any scales. There was no force that would, by itself, attempt to right any wrongs. There was, it seemed, only the earth, and all the beings on it, magical and not.

Nobody was watching her.

So she could cheat after all. Using a spell such as Ventus, especially one powerful enough to sweep the clouds away, might have some magical effects that would interfere with the workings of the mandrake leaf, but. Perhaps there was someone who could sweep the clouds away for her.

She just had to get past Filch.

…

The light of the ghost of Argus Filch shone weakly in the upper corridor. Yet it was the only light on this night at all, for the rain came down, came down, came down.

“Come back to try again?” said Filch. “Came back to tell me I’m in your way?”

“I could just as easily barge through you,” said Sparrow. “And lose as many house points as you care to take. I really don’t care about them anymore, I never did. I could have walked right through you at any time, do you know that? But I didn’t.”

“I could have raised the alarm when I saw you out of bed.”

“But you didn’t. Why was that?”

“Maybe I was having fun,” said Filch.

“You were challenging me,” said Sparrow. “The first time I ever managed to brew a shrinking potion was when I was thinking of getting past you. I’d never done an invisibility charm either. I’m glad you didn’t raise the alarm. It let me learn a bit more. And I think, in some small way, you respected my efforts.”

Filch grunted.

“I wanted to respect your authority,” said Sparrow. “Or perhaps I bowed to it. I didn’t even think of barging through you. Maybe if I had, you’d feel even worse than you did now. Maybe you’d feel powerless. That would have been very rude, for me to do.”

“Ghosts are cold,” said Filch. “Nobody wants to pass through them.”

“Well I’d like to get around you someday,” said Sparrow. “I do have important business for when the full moon comes back. I would like to be able to see Blaise again.”

“Blaise. Well. Hm. Ready for their story, then?”

“Ready for a lot of stories. For mine. For Blaise’s. For Jocasta’s. For Cormac’s. For Jill’s. I feel like a moonlit night at the Dragon tower is the perfect place. And…I’m inviting you, if you will come. Because I want to hear your story as well. Wizards don’t pay attention to house Elves, and they don’t pay attention to Goblins, and they didn’t pay attention to Giants, and they don’t pay attention to Squibs. I figured you might appreciate having a willing ear, for once.”

“Goblins,” said Filch. “Giants. House Elves. And Squibs, eh? Comparing me to them. Hmph. Well, I might turn up. I might not.” He sneered. “I could be really nasty, and prevent you from going at all. I could shout to the castle and say that the madgirl had finally snapped and was attacking portraits, or something. Heh. But if I did that, I’d lose Blaise as a friend.”

“Does that mean I can go?”

Filch gave her a penetrating stare. “You’re a Wizard, Jones. You can do what you want. You can always do what you want. And I can’t. Go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”


	22. End of Part 1: Old Pain I Endured, New Pain I Accept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tales once promised are now told. Even if it makes the teller tremble.

Tomorrow came.

Miranda had plucked a single Mandrake leaf, and held it cupped in the palm of her hands as she strode through the upper corridor with Sparrow. Cormac had elected to wear his formal robes for the occasion, and had felt silly when Jill had told him he looked overdressed, until Violet elected to wear her formal robes as well. Jocasta had bags under her eyes, for she had not slept all the previous night, instead lying awake in fear and anticipation.

The children made their way down the upper corridor, glancing glumly out the windows, for this night was also rainy. They had been informed by Sparrow that there was a way to clear the air and let the moon shine down, yet she would not tell them what it was, until Jocasta had reminded her of her promise to communicate. And so the children were marching towards the dragon tower, knowing of Sparrow’s plan but not believing very much that it would work. Dragons were not, in any way, obedient creatures. There was a reason they were considered Class XXXXX, “extremely dangerous and untameable”. It was only Sparrow’s skill with a shield that led any of them to believe they would survive the encounter.

There was a ghostly light in the hall. Argus Filch was floating there.

The children waited, wondering what he would do.

“You’re still invited,” said Sparrow. “Will you come?”

“Will I come,” said Argus Filch. “Will I come. To an event. Hm. No student, no teacher, no ghost ever asked me that question. I’ve never had to answer it.”

“So what’s your answer?”

It was for Filch to float through a wall, and out into the rain.

The children continued, having no idea if that was a good or a bad sign.

And so they came to the Dragon Tower, a black shape looming in the gloom.

And there was another shape in the gloom, close to the walkway’s edge. A human figure. An adult.

“Is that Blaise?” said Jocasta.

“Nope,” said Miranda.

“ _Lumos”_ , said the figure. It was, in fact, Professor Longbottom.

“What are you doing out in the rain?” said Violet.

“It keeps me grounded,” said the Professor. “And watered. Oh dear, I must be turning into a plant after all.”

“You wish,” said Miranda. “Did you decide what you were going to recommend for us?”

“No. I didn’t. It’s all very…enticing, to think of breaking the law in the name of doing Good, but I am old, and harder to lead when it comes to that road. I think I would have a better sense of what I ought to be doing, if I could understand where you are all coming from. So…have I your permission to listen to the stories you would tell?”

“Some of them are quite personal,” said Sparrow. “You would have to swear to their secrecy.”

“I do so swear.”

“Well then. What does everyone else think?”

Of all the children, only Jocasta objected, largely out of principle, for as she said, this entire plan had grown far beyond what she intended.

And so the children came to the door of the Dragon Tower, and knocked.

And waited.

“Cold rain,” said Violet. “Are you sure we can’t do this on another night?”

“The muggle astronomy reports say the full moon is tonight,” said Cormac. “Tomorrow night the moon won’t be full enough. It has to be now. But, that’s assuming the plan works.”

“Shouldn’t be too much trouble,” said Sparrow. “As long as Blaise knows what they’re doing. As long as they’re here. ”

At last the door to the tower creaked open. From within spilled an orange light, and within the doorframe was silhouetted the long cape and pointy hat of the one whom Sparrow had been trying to reach for so long.

“I’ve been waiting to see you again,” said Blaise. “Too long. Filch told me that you thought I wouldn’t show up if it was raining. Is that what he told you?”

“He implied it!”

“A merry jest,” said Jocasta. “But I’m not feeling merry, because the wind is cold and the rain is cold and can we get inside please?”

Blaise stepped aside, and the assembled Wizards entered the tower. As they passed, Sparrow hung behind, until only her and Blaise were left. Then she whispered her plan in Blaise’s ear, and hoped that they would acquiesce, for this was, in fact, the first chance she’d had to speak to them in while.

Blaise, for their part, sounded amused. “To use dragons,” they whispered, “in a manner not magical but scientific. Clever girl. Well, I can ask them to try. It ought to work. Come on.”

Sparrow and Blaise entered the tower.

Its ceiling was lost to view. Its walls were bare stone. If there had been any cloth upon those walls, it had since been burned off, for the stone had enough scorch marks to look like the back wall of a fireplace. And there were dragons, on the high stone balconies, dragons enough to make Sparrow’s head spin as she tried to count them all. It was tricky because they kept flying from one perch to the next. Sparrow had the feeling they were restless after the months of rain.

There were dragons, on the high stone balconies all the way up to a place lost to view, dragons of all shapes and sizes. Black Hebrideans, Sparrow could identify those, and Welsh Greens, sure enough, but what were the ones that were smaller than the Hebrideans, and silver, and rotund? What were the ones that were long and narrow and breathed purple flame? What were the ones with blue scales and golden wings?

Was that a single massive eye in the darkness above?

“Blaise,” said Jocasta. “Have you been experimentally breeding dragons? How naughty.”

Blaise put up their hands. “Not my fault. I had nothing to do with it. Dragons came here to stay and here they breed. Anyway. Come sit by the fire.”

There was a large bonfire in the center of the room. Sparrow peered around it, and discovered to her shock that a large white dragon, with a head the size of a sheep, had been resting here on the floor the entire time. She watched it snore and snort, as if dreaming, and with each snort it breathed a bit of flame. Thus the bonfire was kept lit. Blaise went over to the dragon, tickled it under the chin, and whispered into its ear. It opened one eye, and seemed to grin. Then it went back to sleep again.

Around the fire were arranged logs, as if people were meant to sit here and talk and sing campfire songs.

Miranda sat upon one of the logs. “Nice touch,” she said. “Were you expecting guests at some point?”

“I often have a particular guest,” said Blaise. “My dear Mr. Longbottom, always a pleasure to see you.”

“Likewise,” said the Professor.

“You could have just grabbed him a chair,” said Jocasta.

“I have often thought the same thing,” said the Professor, as he sat down against a wall.

“I wanted something to turn a bare and utilitarian fire into a friendly bonfire,” said Blaise. “I figured logs would work best for that. Even if my only common guests are one solid Professor, one solid student, and one ghost. Ah well. I guess luck favors the prepared. Come on, Mr. Longbottom. Don’t act like an outcast.”

The Professor shrugged, and took a seat beside Miranda.

The rest of the children took their seats around the fire, Sparrow alone electing to sit close to the dragon. “Oh goodness,” said Jocasta, scooting over to Sparrow and clinging to her arm, “My brave knight, my one true love, save me from the dragon!”

“Fear not,” said Sparrow. “Fair Maiden, thou art safe with me. Take comfort in mine mighty arms.” She draped an arm around Jocasta.

“Ahem,” said Professor Longbottom. “I imagine there are many stories to tell tonight.”

“I’m getting cold feet,” said Sparrow.

“So stick them in the fire and talk,” said Jocasta.

“Please,” said Blaise. “We’re here to listen, not to beat out confessions. If Sparrow doesn’t want to go first, then maybe someone else is willing. If no one is, we can still enjoy the fire, and wait for the moon to show its face. Should I go first?”

“I will,” said Jocasta. “It’s kind of my fault we’re here anyway. Well. You might say it’s my father’s fault.” She lifted Sparrow’s arm off her shoulder, and stood, gaze fixed upon the fire, the light of the flame dancing in her dark eyes. Her expression was grim, as if all the humor she carried was draining out of her.

“My father. Not my Dad, but my father. Rodolphus Carrow, neé Rosier, who married Hestia Carrow. I’m the grandchild of Amycus Carrow. Yes indeed, that man. The man who ruled this school when Voldemort ruled the ministry, the man who used the Cruciartus curse upon students. My father always said the students must have earned it, somehow, but he wouldn’t say how.”

“Nee Rosier?” said Cormac.

“He married into the Carrow family and they weren’t going to let him forget it. They invoked an ancient Wizarding custom where spouses dueled each other and the winner got to keep their surname. He lost, so Carrow he became. As for his own ancestry, well. There was the Rosier family, of course. But he had been born of a mother who claimed to be descended both from Lisette de Lapin and Morrigan, two different legendary animagi. Well, maybe his mother was off her rocker, but it hardly matters, because Father took up the supposed legacy, and became an animagus himself. A wolf. He was very proud of that. He decided that I, a girl of ten years old –”

There was a collective gasp.

“ – yes, before I even made it to Hogwarts – would follow in his footsteps.”

“And you followed?” said Professor Longbottom.

“I didn’t want to. But. I lived in the Carrow manor along with my father, and there were things in the basement, the sorts of things parents threaten their children with, only these were real. There were things on the walls that would whisper my name if I disobeyed my father. There were portraits of ancient family members who would inform on me if I stepped out of line. I felt like I had no choice but to give in.

“On his part, my father did everything in his power to make the process of becoming an animagus easy for me. He stuck the mandrake leaf under my tongue with a simple little sticking charm, and he brewed the potion himself. The trickiest part was finding dew that had lain in darkness untouched for seven days, but he managed it. And he made sure that the moon shone full and clear in one month and the next by blasting the clouds with wind. And when it came to the recitation, he would wake me every morning, without fail, and make me recite the _animo anima._ He tried, he really did.

“I blame him for the fact that I turn into a fly, not simply because of the sticking charm. That might have something to do with it. But, if being an animagus reflects one’s personality, well…I had been raised to be a fearful little worm in the first place, by that house, by the Carrows, who were fond of the whip, and by my father, whose implied threats were enough to terrify me.

“I don’t know if I should regret becoming an animagus. In some ways the whole thing was entirely out of my hands, so why live with guilt that I don’t deserve? And yet, the business may yet cause me trouble, because my father –” Jocasta turned her head to meet Sparrow’s gaze. “I told you that my registration was uncertain. My father did not wish to register me. He said it would spoil the whole thing, to be a publically known animagus. But, perhaps to sabotage him, or perhaps because she was immensely proud of my accomplishment, Grandmother Impedimenta went and registered me anyway.” Jocasta turned back to the fire. “Father was furious. He went to the ministry and tried to erase my name from the register. Literally, he tried to erase my name from the page. And he succeeded…somewhat…but the page itself was, in fact, rather tenacious, and would not give up easily. So Father quietly had the registrar promoted to a distant office, got a friend of his to be the registrar, and had the man erase my name whenever it showed up on the page again.

“If you go to the register and you’re lucky, which is to say I’m unlucky, my name will be there because old Mundungus hasn’t got around to erasing it again. But most days of the week I’m unregistered. I guess, if the Ministry ever does come sniffing around, I can get Mundungus to stop erasing the name, and avoid being tossed into Azkaban. Maybe that’s a good thing. In some ways I’d rather _be_ registered, because when I’m a fly I’m stealthy enough that being unregistered feels redundant. On the other hand, I have the element of surprise right now.” Jocasta shrugged.

“I think, when it comes down to it, that my behavior at this school has always been a matter of just how much I could get away with. Any time I might face consequences, I could run. Any place I wanted to go, I could go. I never faced…any real discipline. Until this year, I suppose. Until I realized that I’d hurt someone I cared about. That I’d hurt two people I cared about. I’m sorry for that.” Jocasta let go of Sparrow and walked around the fire to Jill. She laid a kiss upon Jill’s head. “And that’s my life.” She turned towards the gathered circle. “Does anyone want a big fancy manor full of dark artifacts? Bidding starts at a sickle and goes up by knuts.”

“Your father is nuts,” said Cormac.

“Yes, Cormac, that was the point of my story.”

“Couldn’t resist the pun,” said Cormac. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to make that pun? British Wizards call their smallest coin a “nut” and yet I haven’t been able to find any opportunity to make a good pun with it. It’s been so frustrating.”

“Same,” said Sparrow. “Imagine growing up with pounds and pennies and learning that Wizard coins are called ‘nuts’. It was the greatest day of my life. I shall use that memory to cast a Patronus someday. Talking of which, Cormac. You look like you want to go.”

“Surprised?”

“I didn’t think you had any sensitive stories to share.”

“I wouldn’t call it sensitive,” said Cormac. “Just painful. Yeah okay I guess that’s sensitive. Anyway! Speaking of surprise, are any of you surprised that my surname is ‘McKinnon?’ Does that name, perchance, ring any bells? Hmmmmm?”

“The first Wizarding War,” said Professor Longbottom. “All the McKinnons were killed.”

“Exactly.”

“So where’d you come from?”

“Let me put it this way. The first Wizarding War, for all that it was a terrifying ordeal, was limited in scope. Voldemort said he wanted to rule the world, and yet his actions never crossed the pond. He never made any moves in the Americas. No idea why. Well, that was fortunate for my branch of the McKinnon family, who lived in Chicago.

“The McKinnons of Chicago are ruled – I shouldn’t say ruled, that’s un-American, but I’m saying it anyway – by my great-grandmother Grainne, who always said to me that the McKinnons belong in the Isles of old, that they belong to the isles, that the isles belong to them. Well, that all seems a trifle arrogant, and to tell you the truth I never much felt of a personal connection to Ireland, nor to England. North America was my home and is my home.”

Sparrow looked puzzled. “But you’re here, in Scotland. Is Hogwarts not your home?”

“On a physical basis yes. On an emotional level? I am torn. If I could pick up Hogwarts and place it outside of Chicago then I would be entirely satisfied. I do not wish to be away from the Americas. I did not wish to come here. I feel…not merely stifled, but segregated artificially.”

“Now hang on a moment,” said Sparrow. “Last month you told me that this segregation was a good thing.”

“I implied it”, said Cormac. “Sorry about that. I was trying to warn you about how dangerous it was to act against Muggles too openly and I couldn’t tell you the whole truth about my own behavior so I wound up sounding like I enjoyed the whole business of Wizarding secrecy. I don’t, as it happens. I just understand why it exists.

“The truth is, I was exiled from my homeland by my own grandmother. Not for breaking the Statute of Secrecy but for being too eager to show muggles my abilities up close. See, the reason I know muggle songs is because I have engaged with them on a regular basis --

“You what!” said Jocasta.

“Oh come off it,” said Cormac. “Plenty of Wizards do the same thing here. It’s just that here the Wizard life is kept separate and hidden but in the western hemisphere…not quite so much. There’s a lot of open space in those lands. In any land, really, but – in England you have your little towns crowded together, little cities crowded together, and it’s a complicated explanation of why but the short version is that when the local Lord owns all the land you don’t get to buy individual plots. Meanwhile the countries of the Americas – okay, the settler-colony countries of the Americas – grew up with a culture of individual land ownership where everyone had a lot of their own space. The joke about Daniel Boone is that he would move away whenever his neighbors started to live closer than five miles from his place. Or maybe that wasn’t Daniel Boone. The point is, what I hear everyone talking about this Statute of Secrecy business…for most of my life so far it hasn’t been part of my experience, not as closely as it is now.

“See, you get yourself a culture where people are real spread out, and you wind up with Wizards who personally own vast tracts of land where they can do whatever the gosh-darn hell they want. So you don’t have to be real careful about keeping magic secret. If y’all want to run off over them hills yonder – ”

“I can’t tell what he’s saying,” said Jocasta.

“I think that’s an American accent,” said Miranda.

“ – then y’all can have a literal blast. If any folks hear the noise, well, some of them will know what’s up and some of them will think it’s a science experiment. No muss, no fuss, just make sure you clean up the mess, and if any ‘muggle’ sees you, just tell them it’s all a magic trick. That ain’t no lie.” Cormac winked. “Just not the whole truth. And it’s always worked. Even in the years when the Americas were full of many more people than they are now, you could go to the places where folks lived most densely, and still find countless houses with backyards – ”

“Back what now?” said Jocasta.

“Backmeters,” said Miranda. “Americans use yards.”

“Darn right we do!” said Cormac. “For cookouts and football and lawn darts and whatnot. You could find countless houses with backyards big enough to hide smaller magical activity. You could sit out on the back porch and wave your wand to light a brazier, and there wouldn’t be a muggle close enough to be certain of what you were doing, even if they were looking in your direction. At least that’s what my grandmother told me.

“And in the back country, maybe you could do a few magic tricks for your non-magical friends and call it a magic trick without explaining the details, because a magician never reveals the secret of a trick, right? Technically the law says you’re not supposed to do magic in front of ‘muggles’ but the Continental Congress doesn’t really enforce that law. I think they’ve got one guy in a small office who’s in charge of enforcement. For the entire continent. I’ve never had anyone from the Congress breathing down my neck about that. Never even met one of them.

“Chicago isn’t exactly a crowded city either. We’re huddled at the shore of Lake Michigan, but out beyond the Chicago River the buildings are mostly abandoned, slowly reclaimed year by year. If I wanted to cross the river I could find plenty of places to play at magic. Easy enough to get into an abandoned building when the boards over the doors are rotten, and if anyone passing by sees weird flashes of light, they decide that it’s precisely why they don’t cross the river willingly. I sometimes wonder if all the older kids with their wands are the reason Chicago residents don’t reclaim their old territory quite as fast.

“Then again the shadows sometimes have critters in them that would make your skin crawl, and it’s Granny leading the Chicago Wizards to chase them away so that folks _can_ settle across the river.”

“Wizards helping muggles?” said Jocasta. “Why on earth would they do that?”

“Because it’s Chicagoans helping Chicagoans,” said Cormac. “My Granny’s a Chicagoan born and bred as she says, even if she talks a lot of guff about being Pure Irish. And so am I. Our neighbors are neighbors, magic or no magic. I’ve always felt like the business of magic was a family business the same way a farm might be, even if it was supposed to be kept quiet. Never felt like it was some kind of…ethnicity. Here in Britain Wizards act like it’s some kind of tribe and they talk about Wizarding Britain and Muggle Britain like they’re two different worlds.”

Filch floated through the wall, startling everyone into falling off their seat.

“Oh come off it Longbottom,” said Filch. “You do that every time I float through the wall.”

The Professor chuckled. “I figure it’s courteous to act like that for any ghost.”

“I thought you weren’t coming,” said Sparrow, as she picked herself up. “But welcome to the circle of blood traitors. What took you so long?”

“Had to convince the castle ghosts to stay away tonight. I said I’d inform on you for them. Didn’t say if I’d tell ‘em the truth. Heh. Don’t thank me, just doing my job. Anyway, Cormac, you’re right about Wizards and Muggles being two different worlds here. And where does that leave a Squib, eh?”

“Torn apart?” said Cormac.

“Used to be literally.”

Cormac looked puzzled, then horrified.

Filch grinned. “You don’t know what Wizards do to Squibs?”

“I…should expect that they treat them like part of the family. Because that’s what they are. What on earth did – ”

“Later,” said Filch. “Later. Get on with your own story first.”

Cormac shook himself, and said, “Right. My world wasn’t strictly segregated. I didn’t even learn the word ‘muggle’ until Granny yelled at me for doing magic too close to people. So. I grew up around kids who had magic and kids who didn’t, and I was told that the ones without magic would be real jealous so I shouldn’t show off in front of them. For while that explanation worked. I didn’t want to be mean.

“But then I got to thinking…so many of my neighbors without magic were struggling. Trying to find good sources of water, trying to grow food where they could or get it from farms farther out, getting sick from contaminated food or water or some such thing that Muggle Magic could have taken care of in the old days. They don’t have as much access to that stuff now because most of it goes to the rich folks on Goose Island in the river. And Granny used to tell me that kids used to have safe concrete pools where they could learn to swim, and now they have to learn to swim in the lake or the river, so now and then a kid drowns just for trying. Or a creaky building falls on someone and the doctor can set the bone but there’s none of these fancy painkillers for us, just cheap old Novacaine stolen from shipments going to Goose Island, so when it comes to dental work we’re all set but otherwise we’re out of luck. And if someone is diabetic they’re not long for this world. Is it like that in London?”

“We’ve got proper medicine in London,” said Sparrow. “The city government is a tangled mess but they try to distribute medicine properly at least. What kind of terrible government do you have?”

“In Chicago? We’ve got the rich folks on Goose Island promising to protect us from northern raiders but Granny says a raid hasn’t come from the north in two decades. We’ve got City Hall that gets paid off by the rich folks. Otherwise we just kind of get by, and people settle their larger disputes with fistfights.”

“Sounds utterly charming,” said Violet.

“Don’t know if you’re being sarcastic or not. Sparrow, I told you I’d seen someone die in front of me for cracking their head on something. I didn’t tell you I’d seen it twice. I say it ain’t exactly an easy life to live when that’s a risk. So, getting to my point – I got to thinking that if we had all this magic we ought to help our neighbors more than we do. Purify their water and shore up old walls and set their bones and put out fires and maybe even do that openly.

“But Granny wouldn’t have it. Granny knows that there are blame mean people out there, preying on small towns, swooping in to grab the food and slaughter the folks, out beyond Chicagoland. They did used to come down from the north. She told me there are plenty of places where people were fighting their small wars over territory, like they used to before the States united themselves and settled everything down. She told me she knew that if Wizards got to being honest about their business then everyone would want to use them as soldiers in their silly little wars, and you’d have Wizard against Wizard.  
“That shut me up for a while but I kept asking her, and then on my eleventh birthday I got myself a wand and I went and did magic in front of my neighbors and told them that magic was real, not a trick. And Granny dragged me home by the ear and told me I was not to spill Wizard Secrets in front of muggles again.

“The next time I did, Granny decided it was high time I visit the Enchanted Isles and learn proper Wizarding secrecy at the world’s best school of magic. She told me that it would be best for me, if I was so eager, to learn at a formal magic school instead of by random tutoring the way most learned. So she put me in a boat on the pier, we sailed to Green Bay and picked up a port key from there, and…there I was, standing on a train platform in front of the train, didn’t know what the hell a train was, didn’t know where Granny had gone. I got on the train because everyone else was getting on it and…here I am now.

“I tried to go home for the holidays the first year because Granny said she’d be there for me in Green Bay. So I took the port key back. But Granny wasn’t there for me.

So I stole a broom and traveled where I wanted. Saw a group of people shooting at a farmhouse and I saw the farmer’s wife get shot – ”

Violet gasped. “You told me your first Christmas home was boring.”

“I’m being honest tonight. Anyway I tried to swoop down to help her but I think one of the raiders shot me. I woke up in some random field far away with Granny standing over me and she said, Cormy, you didn’t even wait ten minutes for me to reach the port did you. And I said no. And she said Cormy, I’ve been on your tail for the last three hours but you stole a faster broom than I did. And I said thanks. And she said Cormy, you done messed up this time, I had to blow apart one of them raiders to save you and now everyone will know magic tricks aren’t just tricks, so maybe you ought to stay across the sea until you’re older. And I said Granny, you can kiss my ass.

“So I’m exiled here. I don’t go home for the holidays because I can’t. Sometimes I like being in this castle because I can do all the magic I want but…I could do that before without having stupid rules about bedtimes and mealtimes and class schedules. Bleh. I don’t really like sticking around here over the holidays but…I can’t go home, can’t stay here. I said my home is in North America but right now, I’m not sure where home is.”

“My house,” said Violet. “You’ve been there for two Christmases running.”

“Fair enough. I like your folks. They’re nice people. Just a little…well not more strident about this Statute of Secrecy business than anyone else, but I sure feel stifled. I’m used to running wild. So. Sparrow.” Cormac stood with a fierce gleam in his eyes. “I’m as restless as you are. Once upon a time I was free, and I’ve been caged by the culture I was tossed into, caged by fear and secrecy and lies, and if I tell you to follow the laws it’s because I’ve seen what muggles can do after all. So now I don’t know about breaking the silence. If y’all want to get into this Animagus business -- ”

“What exactly does that word mean?” said Jocasta.

“You all,” said Miranda.

“ – Then I’ll follow soon as it looks safe. And sometimes I think the rest of y’all are nuts – ”

“Wait,” said Jocasta, “is that word singular or plural?”

“It’s complicated,” said Miranda. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“What, am I thick as Tewksbery Mustard?”

“ – but y’all’re my kind of nuts. So maybe home is where my friends are, and I do for you like I wanted to do for Chicago. Maybe that means warning y’all away from trying what I wanted to try. But I like the idea of running around asking people instead of just giving them something they don’t want. And if they say no it’s a load off my mind! So I’m in on this whole thing for now.”

Cormac sat. For a few seconds no one spoke.

“My turn?” said Violet.

“Please,” said Jocasta.

“Alright. Well.” Violet stood, and glanced at Cormac. “I think Cormac did a lot of my work for me here. I have also felt stifled, in my own way. Not in the way of a free person suddenly bound, but in the way of a child who grows up feeling caged from the beginning. My story is…not as gritty as Cormac’s. I am connected to my childhood home and to my world. Nor am I a McKinnon, nor a Carrow. Just a boring old Brown.

“If I had been entirely content with this I would have nothing to say. But, as I said, I felt caged from the beginning. To begin with I am disconnected from the side of my family that knows nothing of Wizards. Jill, you are of mixed heritage yourself, correct? Perhaps you know this feeling.”

“To a certain extent,” said Jill. “I see my father’s side of the family frequently but not on a consistent basis, and when I am there I have to remember how to wash dishes without magic. Can’t break the law, right?”

“Bingo. Or else the Ministry comes down on you. This was impressed to me from an early age. I go to the house of my father’s father and I don’t know what to do because I’m so used to doing things with magic.”

“You’re a little spoiled,” said Cormac.

“Fair enough. But the silence is the worst part. I don’t know what to say because I can’t describe what my school is like, what I want to do with my life, where I want to go…I sit in silence and let everyone think I’m trying to be rude. And it’s hard on my father because he can’t explain anything either. And he can’t explain a single one of my mother’s family relations to his own side of the family, so the two sides never ever meet.

“I know that if I do magic in front of the toddlers they would love it. But no. Too bad. And when I go home, I can’t do magic, because I’m underage. Pfeh. If I were in North America maybe I would feel as though the world was stretched too thin, but at home I feel like I’m squashed short. Because I’m underage for doing magic anywhere but Hogwarts. If I do it in the privacy of my own home the Ministry is like _POOF_ ‘naughty naughty naughty!’ _POOF._ What a bunch of nosy parkers they are.

“So, in the years when Cormac was getting restless about doing good things for muggles, I was getting angry that magic was rare. Blaise, I’m still sorry about setting the curtains on fire.”

“You’ve apologized enough times,” said Blaise. “I could tell that you had a lot on your mind. But why did you take a year to tell me what it was?”

Violet shrugged. “I wasn’t certain that I was right about the matter being unfair. Maybe it was good that few people had magic if a Wizard was going to burn stuff by accident. But what I’ve seen of muggles in London, what I’ve seen of the world…I’m leaning towards the idea that I was right after all. I had always hoped that muggles could know the delights of what I could do. I was dismayed to think that they never would.”

“Is that why you wandered out alone at night when Father told you not to?”

“I wanted to see the stars, that’s all. I was wondering whether we could have reached them by now, if we all had magic at our disposal.

“And, truth be told, I was getting into some dangerous business that I didn’t want to drag you into. Because I started thinking about the nature of magic itself. Wondering how to find the truth of it, how to change it. My father told me it was something for the Department of Mysteries, and that I should not speak of such things loudly. I have kept my mouth shut since then. But in my silence I have been studious. And now, Sparrow, you have an idea of who gets the library books before you do. Not that I managed to save any from being removed to the Ministry, more’s the pity.”

“Really,” said Sparrow. “Did you check out the second volume of the Granger And Snape book of potion craft?”

Violet shook her head. “I’ve been waiting to see that one returned for ages.”

“Oh dear,” said Miranda. “Whenever it does return, both of you shall have to race for it.”

“Or we can share it,” said Violet, “like sensible people. Talking of sense, I did much as Cormac did, and learned forbearance over the years, as I began to understand the differences between the Wizarding world and the world of muggles. I have been informed that muggle magic seems to break down in the presence of Wizardry. This is not quite accurate, or else Wizards would never be able to turn on an electric light. But it is true that you can’t get a muggle radio to work at Hogwarts. Maybe it’s the sheer concentration of magic here that messes things up.”

“Makes sense to me,” said Cormac. “If Muggle Magic works through subatomic particles and Wizard magic ignores the laws of physics, a concentration of Wizard magic will mess with the proper function of subatomic particles.”

“Subawhat?” said Jocasta.

“You need to pay attention in Muggle Studies,” said Cormac.

“No I don’t.”

“Truth of the matter aside,” said Violet, “the fact is that I have been trying to find the truth of the matter without assuming that I ought to do anything with it yet. And here comes good old Sparrow Jones saying hey hey hey, let’s turn all the muggles into wizards, what could possibly go wrong! So I’m just as tempted as Cormac to follow you into that mess and just as wary. Does anyone remember Oprah?”

Everyone shook their heads.

“She used to be a television show host and there was this one time she gave everyone in the audience a free Automobile. Everyone was overjoyed until they realized that she forgot to pay the taxes for them, so everyone wound up paying thousands of dollars after all. Whoopsy-daisy, right? That’s what you get for making things a big surprise without considering things carefully ahead of time.”

“I have received similar warnings from my parents,” said Sparrow. “About barging into a situation and trying to fix things your way without asking.”

“Then your parents are wise. For my part, the conclusion about space travel that I came to is based on what I see at this school. Candles, quills, carriages – ”

“British Wizards are highly hidebound,” said Cormac.

“But only British?”

“Well – ”

“Because I have certainly never heard of your wild American Wizards sending a rocket to the moon.”

“Well not yet,” said Cormac, “But we’ve never considered it.”

“Precisely.” Violet pointed to the ceiling. “All manner of flying creatures at our disposal and no Wizard has tried it? All manner of magic and no Wizard has considered it? Wizards the world over are hidebound. I think the magic does everything for us, so we don’t try any wild adventure because we’re content with what we have.”

“Come now,” said Jocasta. “The Department of Mysteries investigates things all the time.”

“And tells us how much of it?”

“Uh…no idea.”

Violet sighed. “Just proving my point, I suppose. We’re happy and lazy. Meanwhile muggles have no magic, so they have many challenges and they have to solve them as they can, and out of their restless striving they do great things like reach the moon. So, Sparrow, if you were to turn all the muggles into Wizards tomorrow, you would erase a world of challenges and triumph for the sake of a world at lease, and we would all lose something important.”

“You sound like the Headmistress,” said Sparrow. “Have you been talking to her?”

“Not once in my entire life,” said Violet. “Too nervous, I suppose. And my grades are perfect, so I don’t have to explain anything to her. And I’m making dangerous inquiries, so I probably shouldn’t be talking to her. But then here you are, also making dangerous inquiries, and she didn’t expel you yet…so maybe I could talk to her after all? The point is! I don’t want to switch the world from muggle to Wizard magic because I don’t want to lose their way of doing things. I’d like to be able to work _with_ them. And maybe we can reach the stars together.”

“Big plans,” said Cormac. “I like that.”

“Bigger than you can handle,” said Miranda.

“One part at a time,” said Violet. “The first part is getting into the fundamentals of magic, and I’m getting there. Second part is doing diplomacy. I’m in this whole business because Sparrow’s come up with a way to do that quietly. Before she started this crazy Animagus scheme I couldn’t think of a way to talk to muggles without bringing the Ministry down on my head. So thanks for that, Sparrow, and Jocasta, I think this was your idea so thank you as well.”

“Are you sure?” said Jocasta. “You were the one who introduced Sparrow to your sibling in the first place. I think that got the ball rolling for a few different things.”

“Blame aside,” said Violet, “you now have the story of my life.” She sat back at her place on the log. “Who wants to go next? Jill, do you have a story?”

“I wouldn’t call it a story,” said Jill. “More like an explanation for my fury. I’ve been hurt, a lot. And…if were were going to work with muggles like Violet says, I’d prefer we talk to everyone _besides_ the people in charge, because elders always fail me. So, to begin with, understand one thing.”

She stood, and stared at the flames. “I burn.”

The flames grew higher.

“There was a girl. In a muggle school. Yes, I went to a muggle school. Grandmother Padma insisted. She wanted me to have a basic elementary education. Reading, Riting, Rithmetic. Fair enough.”

“I’m supposed to call this a surprise?” said Cormac. “It sounds like you’re telling me you tie your shoelaces.”

“It’s unusual for Wizarding Britain,” said Jill. “Most Wizard children are tutored at home before going to Hogwarts. But, I was sent to School. And in my school, in my fourth year, there was a girl.”

“Was she pretty?” said Jocasta.

“Pretty as you. So, I wanted to get to know her better. But. For whatever reason, she hated me. Or…maybe she didn’t. Maybe she just didn’t care. Either way, she…did the sort of things to me that children do before they’ve learned how to play nice. Only, by my age she should have learned. So, you know, pulling hair, tripping me, stealing my belongings. It had to have been deliberate, in the way a toddler’s cruelty isn’t.

“I put up with it for a year, trying not to lash out at her. But it was getting worse. She was clever. She would frame me for certain things like breaking windows. My reputation at the school was suffering. And when I would try to enlist the aid of a teacher, she would say that the situation was my fault.

“And they believed her. Because in front of them, in front of almost everyone, she was a sweet little angel who never did anything wrong. They turned their backs and her claws came out. Every time. I think she had a lot of fun tormenting me. I think that was the point.

“I was fully prepared to put up with this. But. My reputation at school was suffering. The teachers were turning on me, reporting bad behavior to my parents. It was quite a bit of work to convince Mum and Dad that I was not, in fact, a wild child. And the students were turning on me as well. They didn’t trust me. They started to kick me, call me names.

“But.

“There was one child, one brave little boy, who stood by me through all of it. A child named Benjamin Grey. I loved him for his bravery, and I think he loved me.

“And the girl who had tormented me for so long saw this. And one day she began to go after him as well.

“And that was the last day she did so, for in the very moment when she began to accuse Benjy of stepping on a frog, I knocked that girl clear across the courtyard. It was the first magic I’d ever done, and I was…terrified. But I was thrilled. And I turned to the other students…and all of them, even Benjy, shied away from me.

“The girl herself hit a tree branch. She suffered some fractured ribs, a concussion, a lost tooth, a sprained ankle, and she probably has mental scars to this day.

“I was pulled out of school. Well. I was expelled. But Grandmother elected to tutor me in my remaining years before entering Hogwarts. And she kept me cooped up at the Warren. I was quite a bit put out, over being confined, but then, for her it made sense to avoid letting a little firecracker out into the world. I had already suffered quite the stern lecture from the Ministry until Grandmother assured them she had things under control. Still, I’ve resented my grandmother since then, and my parents, to a certain extent, for putting me in that school.

“Am I under control now? I don’t know. If I had to pick a happiest memory to use for a Patronus spell, knocking that little bitch across the courtyard would have been right up there a few years ago.” She looked up, and met Sparrow’s eyes, and Jocasta’s in turn. “Thank God I have happier memories now.” She looked down at the fire again.

“When it comes down to changing the world, there are many people who have not paid for their crimes, even the crimes of decades ago. They…remind me a great deal of that little bully. And everyone who lets them run rampant reminds me of the teachers who saw my pain and did nothing. So, I burn. Year by year. I have always struggled to keep myself in check.

“That’s not the whole story, unfortunately. Some things I can’t tell to anyone yet. Just know that…if you want me involved in this whole business, you have to be careful, and I have to be careful. Or else I will melt the stone around me. Sparrow, when I told you you never wanted to see my all, I was not joking.”

“You gave it your pretty damn best at your last duel,” said Professor Longbottom.

“Best, yes. That was because I was controlling where my energy would go. If I don’t, it just goes up. When was the last time _you_ saw a volcano?”

“Never,” he said, “but…when did you?”

“Bad memories,” said Jill.

“Any deaths?”

“Never mind. Just understand this – there will come a time when my all is needed. I can hope that such a day will never come, but on the path we are taking, it may be that all the dark powers of the world will stand against us. So. If you need me, then, I will be there, as Benjamin was for me. If you say I must go, if you think I am too dangerous for your goals, I will break my wand, and go. If an innocent person comes to harm because of me, I will break my wand, and go. I do not wish to be the sort of person who, in their utter moral righteousness, decides that a whole world has to be violently forced to change. Tens of millions, hundreds of millions of people have been killed that way. There’s plenty of people who did awful things to uncountable people because they thought it was for the greater good.

“What I will be, though, is precise. I will be unflinching, and ruthless. I will be the sword. Sparrow, do not feel that you need to cast curses of any kind. Leave that to me. I’m the bad cop, not you. Are we in agreement?”

“If you would be the bad cop,” said Sparrow, “always remember me. Remember that we are not only doing this out of love, we are doing this _for_ love, and we are doing this _with_ love. If we are to do anything it must be with all gentleness and peace possible. If people are to survive our ambitions we must always remember that. Are we in agreement?” Sparrow looked around the circle. Everyone nodded, even Jill.

The firey girl sat back down, and the flames subsided, lower than they had been. Jill had used up quite a bit of the fuel.

“ Ok,” said Sparrow, “who have we left out. Miranda?” She turned to the girl who was still holding a mandrake leaf in her hand. “Got any sad stories to confess?”

Miranda exchanged glances with Professor Longbottom.

“No,” said Miranda. “I am your ally in the struggle against the Statute of Secrecy, but I have no wish to reveal very many details of my past. Blaise, why don’t you tell everyone your story?”

“Sheesh,” said Blaise. “I never thought much about the statute. My world is the world of dragons, not of muggles and Wizards. I can’t say whether or not it’s a good thing that the dragons are kept hidden. I’d rather they be able to migrate with the seasons, you know? And me with them. Maybe I’d just…do that, and hang the consequences. But the Ministry would have wizards obliviating muggles, wherever we went, and that’s. Well. At best it’s unsettling.

“There are a fair few cruelties in the world of Wizards, enough that I stick to the dragons up here. As for what happened to me, one wonders if I could blame Wizards for it, or people in general.

“I am the middle child in my family, where Violet is the youngest and Scarlett is long since gone to the Ministry. I came to this school about ten years ago, having felt middling my whole life. Indeed I even felt middling between being boy and girl, and never picked one or the other. None had forced me to choose, not Father, not Mother, not Scarlett, not Violet. The matter had never really arisen between us. I’d like to think that’s all by-the-by but it did mean that I was unprepared for a world where people do care about such things, and in the ways people tried to steer me towards this group of friends or that group of friends, I was very confused. I got scared and I thought that I was supposed to have chosen my sex years ago, and I had somehow missed the boat. Thank goodness for me that the Sorting Hat was able to sort me out! It told me that the choice of house was more important than details of sex. So, then and there, I refused to choose my sex, and I was sorted into Gryffindor.”

“Wait,” said Jocasta. “Scarlett, Violet, Blaise. That last one doesn’t fit. What happened to your family’s naming scheme?”

“Oh, I changed it a while ago. I figured it was more appropriate to my state of being than what I had before.”

“So what was it then?”

“Irrelevant,” said Violet, glaring at Jocasta.

“Please,” said Blaise. “You need not defend me as stridently as you once did. I’ve got dragons for that now.”

Jocasta’s face paled, difficult as it was to make her face look any paler.

Blaise chuckled. “I jest. But it is true that I could have stood some sort of defense when I was at the school, and I was sorry to be away from my family, for there were too many who thought they knew what was best for me and changed my shape to their liking, without asking. Magic makes that easy, eh? It’s very good for the people who know what they wish, and also very good for the people who wish to switch from one form to another now and then, though only a Metapmorphmagus can do it in an instant. For those who refuse to pick one or the other, as I did…this was not something many people understood.

“So, Sparrow, Violet, what both of you saw of my treatment at the school from my fifth year onward was genteel in comparison to what came before. People had gotten bored with me by then. Before that point…I remember a few times someone held me down and cast spells upon me. It was not an enjoyable experience. Not at all! It was the kind of experience that made me curse the idea of magic altogether. My grades suffered terribly in the first year of schooling. Would have been worse if the Headmistress hadn’t sorted out the culprits properly. But she didn’t do it before I learned a wrong lesson about the value of magic.”

“What value?” said Filch.

“Exactly,” said Blaise. “Not a good lesson but a lasting one. Took me a few years to let it go. In the meantime – ”

“In the meantime I was disappointed to see you getting into magic again,” said Filch. “Why’d you hang around me so often if you were just going to be a good little Wizard after all?”

“You know why. Why will you not admit it?”

“Because I don’t believe you. Nobody’s a safe place. I’m not. I was the grouchy old caretaker. Did all those insults mean nothing to you?”

“They did,” said Blaise. “But no matter how many times I sat in your office and read old books, you never cast spells at me. So I felt safe around you.”

“I couldn’t cast spells. You were taking advantage of my weakness.”

“Or confiding in a fellow spirit, someone between two worlds like me. Come on, Argus. You were a friend to me before you died. What caused you to forget that?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Filch shrugged. “Maybe it was the part where the staircase shifted and made me trip over the railing, so that hitting the floor knocked that memory out of my head, along with everything else. Ooh, I bet if I had been a Wizard I would have been safe – ”

“Not likely,” said Jocasta. “There’s not many spells a wizard could use to save themselves from that fate.”

“I mean someone would have bothered to catch me.”

“Alright, that’s a fair point.”

“No it isn’t,” said Blaise. “This happened at the small hours of the morning.”

“And I was cleaning at the small hours of the morning because nobody bothers to clean up their own messes around here when I can do it.”

“That’s a fair point.”

“Wait,” said Violet. “I tripped off the stairs once. They’re supposed to have spells to catch people. How did they miss you?”

“Judging by my family manor,” said Jocasta, “they don’t work on Muggles.”

An awkward silence hung in the air.

“Anyway,” said Filch, “this is your story, Blaise. Get on with it.”

“Ahem. Right. Well. I started hanging around Argus here like I said. He didn’t exactly understand, at first, and kept shooing me out of his office. Thought I was trying to steal things. But then I kept acting out specifically to get detentions with Filch. Pushing people down flights of stairs and attacking the portraits and writing stuff on the walls. And so I’d get detentions with him, and he’d have me polish all the trophies, or clean Slobber-worm mucus down in the dungeons, or something nasty. And I had the chance to speak with him.

“And I asked him, what’s it like being a Squib, and he said it was like going to a birthday party and everyone gets the guest prizes except you, and then everyone makes fun of you for it, and isn’t it nice that old Dumbledore gave him this job so he could get his revenge on the children of the people who were nasty to him.

“Argus here has never been a nice man. It’s hard to be nice when you’ve been kicked around like that. But he didn’t kick me around, or insult me like the other students, or do much of anything to me, and I thought, well, that’s better than naught. And eventually, he did let me hang around his office. Taught me how to do things the non-magical way. And he told me, sometimes, of what people used to do to him. Things like – well. He enjoys describing them and I don’t.

“So for a few years we were kindred spirits, of a kind, and then…I guess we weren’t. Once I started paying attention to my studies. But Argus, you must remember that I never once did magic when I was in your office. Even in later years.”

“Yeah, yeah. Right. Fair enough.”

“And you don’t have to be a Wizard to appreciate dragons, do you? Maybe if you’d lived you could have rode with me, that first time.”

“I’m not crazy,” said Filch. “You are. To approach dragons like that so easily.”

“Well someone had to,” said Blaise. “Someone had to be an ambassador. Or else everyone here would feel like we’d been invaded. And I don’t hardly mind it if the dragons want me to be more a part of their world than the Wizarding world. Not after the way Wizards have treated me.”

“What are you,” said Miranda, “some kind of hostage for good behavior?”

“Let’s say I’m a liason. But, now that you know how my tale ends, I have little more to say. Filch, I think you have your own story to tell.”

“If a gaggle of Wizards wants to hear it.”

“You said you were saving it for later,” said Cormac.

“How much later?” said Filch. “I didn’t say that, did I? But if you look so eager, I’ll tell you.

“I told you about being torn apart. Bit of a joke, there. Nobody’s done that to a Squib in ages and ages, as far as I know. But Dumbledore told me that when he was a lad, Wizards would imprison their squib children. Or kill them.”

Cormac gasped.

“Don’t be surprised, boy. We’re talking purebloods here. Devoted to Wizardry. Couldn’t handle having a non-magical member of the family. It is what it is.”

“Well it shouldn’t be,” said Cormac. “And it isn’t where I come from!”

“It is where I come from,” said Professor Longbottom. “And I come from Wizarding Britain. The Longbottoms are a pureblood family. So, when it took me too long to get my magic going, the family thought I was a squib.”

“Right,” said Argus. “And they said they dangled you headfist out the window because they thought it would scare your magic into working.”

“Well it did, didn’t it? Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

Argus grunted. “I keep telling you not to make excuses for them.”

“And I keep telling you that’s not a thought I want to entertain.”

“Got to confront it sometime eh? Think about the pureblood way of thinking. The reason why you know so many ghosts.”

“ARGUS!”

That caught the ghostly caretaker’s attention.

Blaise had a fire in their eyes. “You are in the middle of my domain. If I say the walls are not yours to pass through, then they are not. Leave Mr. Longbottom be and continue your story.”

“Right. Families murderin’ their squibs. For what it’s worth…by the time I was a lad it had been nearly a hundred years since that sort of thing was common. Some Squib git had wrote a book about his life and the Wizards had read it and cried, and said they would treat Squibs nicer.

“Mother tended to thrash me with a belt when I couldn’t do magic on her command. Father hexed me with itching and tripped me up with invisible rope. Lovely childhood. No Hogwarts, of course. My siblings went, I didn’t. I could pass through the platform at 9 ¾, but the closest I would have ever come to attending would have been the sorting hat telling me no. I could pass into Diagon Alley, but what reason would I have to even go there?

“19th May 1968 was the only time before or since that I have been in Diagon Alley. There was a march. A march of Squibs. Must have been all of them in the Wizarding world, at least all the ones who bothered to join that world. I was young, and there was some fire in me. When someone told me that a bunch of Squibs, of all things, were marching, well I had to see what was going on.

“And what a sight it was. Signs like “we have rights” and “Squibs are people too.” I hadn’t thought that was true. Mother had always told me I was a pathetic little disappointment. Imagine having someone reach out their hand to me and tell me that I was something after all.

“Imagine being torn away from taking that hand, by a pure-blood wizard. Aye, the pureblood supremacists were hot in those years, full of more fire than me, and what dragons they were, to breathe their fire on everyone. The riot was all up and down Diagon Alley. The damages were in the hundreds of thousands of galleons and there were at least three deaths. All Squibs. They couldn’t defend themselves, I suppose.

“I’m told that Borgin & Burke’s was untouched. Everywhere else, creatures had been released from cages, books were scattered, windows were shattered, magical fires raged. And who was prosecuted for it? Nobody. The Aurors never caught anyone involved. Maybe they didn’t want to. And everyone bamed the squibs for stirring up trouble. I lost a few friends because they blamed me.

“Imagine going through all that, then having Wise Old Dumbledore The Great offer you a job. At Hogwarts. To poor little Argus from before the riot, it would have been the dream come true. To poor little Filch from after the riot, it felt like a condescending consolation prize. I took it. I had nothing else to look forward to. Had quite a bit of fun, in the first years, doing as I pleased to the nasty little Wizard children. Didn’t care much about who got the worst of it, they were all the same.

“And I passed that way for many years. I didn’t care about the Wizarding War. It was Wizards kicking each other around. Not my problem. Maybe having fewer of their children around would mean I had to clean less. And that Potter boy, the first one, he caused me no end of trouble with his friends. My greatest triumph was when I got that damned Marauder’s Map from them.

“Didn’t care a whit for the second Potter boy either. Ooh, la-dee-da, he accidentally killed the dark Lord. Pfeh. He didn’t do a thing for it, did he? Just sat there and Voldemort slipped up and killed himself. Maybe the old goat tripped on the carpet and pointed his wand at himself while he cast the curse. Avada-ka- _whoops_.

“Didn’t care much about the second Wizarding War, either. Same thing as the first. A war between Wizards. Not my problem. Except when they went after the damned school, my school. My home. That meant something to me. And they smashed quite a bit of the stonework. Caused me no end of cleanup.

“And then things quieted down again, until, I guess, the Muggle world quietly crumbled while I wasn’t paying attention. Heh. Maybe it’s good to be a squib after all. I had a place to retreat to and they didn’t. And I lived in the usual way at Hogwarts, and the next generation of Potter’s children and Weasley children caused the same trouble as ever, and I figured that would be my life from then on.

“And then this little git starts hanging around my office, asking me all kinds of questions I didn’t want to answer. Wormed their way into my good graces, they did. It’s like Blaise says. I liked to see that this little Wizard kid DIDN’T want to take advantage of what magic could offer. A Hogwarts student refusing magic, that was new. A Hogwarts student smashing things up specifically to see me, that was strange. What would a little Wizard child want with a 90-year-old Squib? To feel safe? Someone felt safe around _me_? I’d spent an entire career building up a reputation and where was this little twerp ignoring it. Well, fine. We got along. Blaise learned how to sweep a floor without magic and I had someone to talk to for once.

“I didn’t choose to stick around on earth because of them. I’m still around because I only learned on my dying day that there was something called the Society for the Protection of Squibs. I was furious. Where had they been all my life? Had I missed them because I was hanging around Hogwarts? Why had Dumbledore never told me about them? Everything I thought I knew about Hogwarts was turned upside down.

“So here I am, because I’m still angry. Still nice to talk to Blaise, though, when they’re available.”

“Hang on,” said Sparrow. “I never did get to hear why Blaise only shows up on the full moon.”

“I only open the door to the Dragon Tower on the full moon,” said Blaise. “I’m not some moon creature, Sparrow.”

“Then why – ”

“Aesthetic. And I’m still kind of mad at the school. So, they only get to see dragons occasionally. So there. Now, I think we’ve heard every story willing to be told, haven’t we? Oh wait.” They rose, and passed through the fire. Filch snorted in derision, but Blaise paid no heed as they took Sparrow’s hand and said, “Your story. The one you promised. It is your turn to tell, young one, if you would. Will you?”

Sparrow shuddered. “I suppose this is a better place than any. Among friends, protected by dragons. Very well then, you shall hear of why I have been, so far, nothing but the Shield Maiden, the Barrier Witch, the poor kind girl who could never harm anyone.”

Sparrow rose, and let the glow of the flames dance over her face for a few seconds, before she spoke. “There are terrible things in this world. Terrible wizarding things. Things that most of us know nothing of, and well that it should be so. Leave dark magic to the dark wizards. Yet, sometimes those dark things will not leave alone, and, as is their wont, come after us. They find us, and destroy us, because we are innocent, because we have things they want, because nobody will miss us, because nobody will defend us. Because they can get away with it.” She extended her hand towards the fire, and flipped it over a few times, letting the children see the difference in color between her palm and the back of her hand. “I have often wondered if I was targeted, somehow, on that basis. It would not be so surprising. I have heard of worse injustices, from across the pond and across the sea, visited upon people like me. Yet never have I met them myself, not yet.” She glanced at Miranda. “I can only speak for myself, of course.”

Miranda coughed. “Let’s say you’re lucky.”

“What have you encountered?”

“In the Wizard world?” said Miranda. She shrugged. “The usual nonsense about purebloods. I spoke to Aldous Yaxley once upon a time, and he thought I was part of the kitchen staff, but then he said I shouldn’t be, because I was obviously a pureblood. It took some questioning for him to make it clear that he thought I was obviously a pureblood, because of how my ancestors had clearly stuck to their fellow Wizards in South Sudan.”

Jocasta whistled. “Never heard that one before. Your ancestors are from the Nile region, then?”

“No! They’re from West Africa! Had no further wish to heed that fool. So, I went into the kitchen and fetched a well-done steak and brought it to him. I decided he deserved the worst the kitchen had to offer. For a man of supposedly high class, he had no objection to the dish.”

“And what about in Muggle society?” said Cormac.

“I’m alive because I know magic,” said Miranda. “That’s all I wish to tell you. Getting back to the actual speaker here? Sparrow, you said you were never targeted for being black.”

“Was I ever?” said Sparrow. “Was I never? Hard to remember. So I guess the answer’s no. As for the moment I’m describing…I can’t square racism with what actually happened to me. The vast majority of racism is done either for gain, or in desperate desire to hold on to previous ill-gotten gains. This was mass murder for the sake of neither money nor land. And mass murder of children who were mostly white, in the first place, and one that left ME untouched, so if an evil wizard was somehow racist on the basis of skin color, as opposed to purity of magical blood, somehow they got everyone except the one they wanted to. Some things are so improbable as to be functionally impossible.

“Here is what did happen, as I am certain: I went to bed with eight children at a slumber party. Eight friends, three of whom I had known for years. The window was open to take advantage of a cool breeze. When I awoke, I was the only child left, and there was a black blanket crawling out the window. And there was a shimmering, translucent yellow dome over me. The first magic I ever cast. Having no control over it, I couldn’t figure out how to dismiss it in time to pursue the strange blanket. What had happened? Where had the children gone?

“They had left their shoes, they had left their clothing, they had left all their belongings. If they had run it would have not been for long before they were found. And the children were never found.

“The only thing that was found was a single finger bone.”

There was a collective gasp among her audience.

The white dragon opened both of its eyes. Its contented smile had vanished, to be replaced by a look of great concern. It met Blaise’s gaze, who nodded. The dragon began to growl softly.

Sparrow gave it a worried glance. “Am I about to be roasted by a dragon here?”

“It is alright,” said Blaise. “Abrax is growling for you, not against you. They have a very good idea of what happened to your friends.”

“But what happened?” said Violet. “Who took them and left a bone?”

“I think I know,” said Cormac, with a voice as grim as a fourteen-year-old boy could muster.

“Then tell,” said Violet.

“No.” Cormac met Sparrow’s gaze. “I have stepped over that boundary once, and will not do so again. If Sparrow wishes to come to the conclusion, it is up to her. She’s talking about something that can scare dragons.”

Violet turned to Sparrow. “What happened to your friends?”

“Getting there,” said Sparrow. “They died, I’m sure of that. Whatever had happened to them, they were dead and gone. But what had happened? What would the police say? What would the investigation turn up? The neighborhood was all shaken by the disappearance. We all awaited an official explanation.

“But there was no investigation. There were no police. The neighborhood was suddenly mourning the loss of eight children to a gas leak, and calling me lucky. I tried to tell them that it was no gas leak. They refused to listen. I and my parents were left in confusion and fear, and the confusion was never fully resolved.

“Until the incident with my growing a tree. Imagine my fury when I learned of the existence of memory charms, and the practice of obliviating swathes of muggles whenever anything magical happened in their area. The Ministry must have obliviated my neighborhood to prevent any muggle investigation. I’ll never forgive them for that. To force muggles to be deluded about the deaths of their very children is…a crime beyond measurement. I will never forgive the Ministry for that, nor anyone for using memory charms on anyone. Keep that in mind. Ha ha. Ha.

“As for the deaths of my friends…for the longest time, I had no idea how to investigate the matter. But what I could do, at least, was swear that no one would ever come to harm again on my watch. And so the only spell I’ve really bothered to practice is the shield spell, here at Hogwarts. I felt that it was all I needed. My fault, I suppose, for becoming overspecialized.

“Cormac’s remark about L – about – damn it.” Sparrow had begun to shiver again. “I’m not sure I can continue here. I’m – I’m – I’m sorry I just – ”

Jill rose to stand beside Sparrow, and hugged her close. In turn Jocasta put her arms around the both of them. After a few seconds, Sparrow’s breathing slowed.

The three girls separated and sat back down, but sat close together. Violet and Cormac exchanged glances, then moved around the fire to sit beside them. In turn Miranda rose from her seat, and sat down on the stone, perpendicular to the log. Blaise rose from their seat, and sat down upon the stone at the log’s other end, facing Miranda.

Abrax uncoiled, and slithered over to the now-concentrated gathering, and lay behind the log, encircling them all with their tail.

Filch stayed here he was, until he sighed a ghostly sigh and came to float by the fire, a foot outside of the circle of the dragon’s tail. Professor Longbottom did the same on the opposite side of the circle.

“Do you wish to continue?” said Cormac.

Sparrow took a deep breath. “I think I can.”

“What is it then?” said Jocasta. “What is this word you couldn’t name?”

“The word is Lethifolds!” said Sparrow. “Lethifolds! Lethifolds! There. I said it.”

“Oh!” said Jocasta. “Those horrible things?”

“Horrible is a paltry word to describe them,” said Blaise. “Monstrous. Evil. Pure evil. Evil distilled. The most dangerous and deadly creature in the world, if you are sleeping vulnerable.”

Abrax began to growl again.

“Oh come on,” said Violet. “Cone snails are more deadly by far.”

“Yet they don’t hunt humans,” said Blaise. “And you can smash a cone snail with a hammer. These things are living nightmares. Do you know, I don’t think even old Voldemort himself tried to use them. If even he thought they were dangerous to him…”

“Voldemort never bothered to look outside of Europe,” said Sparrow. “Hidebound old fool like so many Wizards. His chief problem, I suppose. Probably the reason he got the Second Wizarding War going. Couldn’t let go of the pureblood business. But – I cannot call these creatures pure evil.”

Blaise looked shocked. “What on earth do you mean?”

“I mean they’re wild animals. Right? Technically innocent. I can hate them, sure, but call them pure evil? That’s a human concept.”

“Mostly,” said Violet. “The higher orders of apes had rudimentary concepts of justice. But if Lethifolds are nothing more than living blankets, they wouldn’t have enough brain to know what right and wrong were.”

The dragon was growling again. Louder this time.

“But we don’t know that,” said Cormac. “These are magical creatures. Maybe they have some sort of brain nobody can see. Or maybe they’re not wild animals at all. Maybe they’re…something else. Nobody knows. Nobody can catch them. There’s only two accounts we have from survivors and the only thing they could have done was cast a Patronus and run. We can’t know if they think, if they scheme…they’re so rare as to be nearly legendary. How do you judge something nearly nobody has ever seen?”

The dragon was growling louder still.

“Abrax,” said Blaise. “Please.”

“Does the dragon know something?” said Miranda. “Spill.”

“Plenty,” said Blaise. “And this discussion is nearly as distressing to them as it is to Sparrow, so let us please leave off speculating.”

“I would note one more thing,” said Jocasta. She turned to meet the dragon’s gaze. “If I may.”

Sparrow turned her head to see Abrax, their teeth slightly bared, eyes wide, holding Jocasta’s gaze. The dragon subsided with an annoyed snort, and nodded their assent.

“Thank you.” Jocasta turned back to address Cormac. “There are only two written accounts from survivors. We don’t know how many true accounts there might be. Also there are only two written survival accounts, _in English._ Perhaps the rest are all written in a language from the tropics, and we’ve never bothered to check. But around here, we have one true account, from Hagrid. He told me in passing that he’d seen a Lethifold twice in the – Oh my God.” Jocasta’s eyes grew wide. She met Sparrow’s gaze with as much concern as Abrax had, if not more. “I sent you into their very domain.”

“It’s alright,” said Sparrow. “I mean it’s alright now.”

“Is it? After all you’ve been through, sending you into a place where you might have met your worst fear – and even if you never did you had to be thinking about it night and day – I can’t blame you for what you did at the dueling club. I sent you into the realm of your worst enemy. Your real worst enemy. Sparrow, I am so sorry.” She took Sparrow’s hands in hers. “I must have caused you greater terror than anyone besides a loathsome fiend could deserve.”

“I will admit,” said Sparrow, “That I harbored some resentment for you, for that. Mostly it was satisfied by my revenge. But you were only one part in a chain of errors. It was Hagrid’s idea to take me into the wild, and my decision to follow.” She laid a hand on Jocasta’s shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself more than I blame him or me. He didn’t know about my terror, nor did you. Neither of you could have known. It was not a story I could ever have told anyone, until here, until now.” Sparrow draped one arm over Jocasta’s shoulder and put an arm around Jill’s waist. “With all of you around me. So it was difficult to tell anyone just where my boundaries were, until they were crossed – Cormac ran into that and I got snappy.” She nodded to Cormac. “Sorry about that, old bean.”

“Young bean. But I’m the one who saw the line in front of my eyes and crossed it. I have some fault here.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps. And yet it was fortunate that you explained Lethi – Lethifolds – to me. Reluctant as I am to admit it. That was the key to a door I thought had been shut. It was a bridge to that old mystery. I looked up Lethifolds and, what do you know, a black blanket creature that devours people in the night. Normally they only live in the tropics. But, you know, most of the world is tropics now.

“And now you can see why I’m on about this Statute of Secrecy business, and why I am so protective. It all comes back to that one night. Because the muggles smudged up the world enough that Lethifolds could sneak around even here in Britain. Because the Statute of Secrecy did nothing to protect my friends. Because the Ministry did nothing to comfort me in my grief, nor offer any sympathy to my family. Because the Ministry deliberately deceived multiple families about why their children had died. So let the whole pile of junk disappear for all I care.”

Jill waved a hand at the fire, and it burned higher.

“Nice touch,” said Sparrow. “And an illustration of what led to the situation we’re in now. The world burned. Because of muggles, because we couldn’t help them, we couldn’t save them, we couldn’t protect them, because the Ministry didn’t want us to, because they thought the Muggles still hated us. As I was unable to help my friends, Wizards were unable to help anyone else. And even now the Ministry won’t let us act openly to undo the damage. We’re not allowed to make a difference.

“I suppose if you could distill my ambitions into one idea, it is the hope that we can make a difference. We cannot change the past, but we can change the future, if we dare.” She rose from her seat, and stepped over Abrax’s tail to stand close before the fire.

“And do you dare?” said the Professor.

“Do _we_ dare. But that is up to each of us here. I will not ask any of you to follow, if you feel it is beyond you, or if you feel that it is unjust. I would only ask that if you feel it is unjust, you would stand up for what you think is right, and oppose me with all of your will and all of your might. I would not have anyone cower before me nor accept an injustice for the sake of friendship. If you are in, say so, and if you are not, say so.” She turned to face her friends.

“I’m with you to the end of all things,” said Jill.

“I can hardly resist,” said Jocasta.

“There are wondrous opportunities here,” said Violet.

“I would relish the chance to live in a wider world once more,” said Cormac.

“I will render what aid I can,” said Blaise. “Though my tasks keep me here and busy. It takes enough time to negotiate with dragons on a normal day, and it will take quite a bit to convince them to do more than stand out of the way. Argus? What about you?”

“Heh.” Filch had his arms crossed. “Dangerous. Heroic. I’ll not stand in the way. That’s all.”

“And Mr. Longbottom?”

The Professor looked grim. “I have come to a better understanding of your griefs,” he said. “And I do not think it is my right to stand in your way. If I had ever entertained that thought it vanished when Sparrow described what the Ministry did to those parents. But as much as I have appreciated that you informed me of your actions, as much as I have felt honored to be included in tonight’s proceedings, I think it would be safer for me to avoid getting too involved. I have my own gardens to tend. I am sorry.”

“I don’t hold it against you,” said Sparrow. “Thank you for being here, and for listening.”

“We’re missing one,” said Blaise. “Miranda?”

Miranda was not meeting anyone’s gaze, but staring at the fire. “I…do not know. I wanted to help you with the mandrake leaf. I informed Professor Longbottom of the proceedings as a matter of personal integrity. Yet as for the rest, I fear I am being swept forward on a flooding tide. Sparrow, I told you I had no wish to be involved directly in bringing down the Statute of Secrecy, and then…I gave you the mandrake leaf. I do not know what I want. Will you give me time to decide?”

“All the time you need,” said Sparrow. “Just…whatever you decide, please be willing to tell me.”

“I can do that.”

“Alright then.” Sparrow stood as tall and straight as a slip of a fourteen-year-old girl could stand, facing the flames once more. “The fire is getting low, and dire deeds arise. Blaise?” She turned to meet the eager gaze of the dragon keeper. “It is time.”

Blaise stood, and, moving behind the log, whispered into Abrax’s ear. They opened their eyes, grinned, and looked up. The dragons overhead began to slither out of the windows, one by one.

“Who can be blamed for this situation?” said Sparrow, as she met the worried gazes of her friends. “Me? The Ministry? Jocasta? Violet? I offer up Jill, if only because she commanded me to be considerate of other people, thus preventing me from merely attempting to interfere with the existence of memory charms. No, if we wish all people to survive our ambitions, we must be delicate, as I said. So. I have, per Jocasta’s suggestion, chosen the hard road. To do good is more difficult than evil. It is ever thus. Come, then, and let us embark.”

She left the fire, then, and opened the door, where the cold rain down came down. She looked back at her friends. “If you are all with me in spirit, be with me in body.”

“I could do that all the time,” said Jocasta.

“Read the room,” said Jill.

“She walked right into it!”

“And we’re walking right into the rain,” said Violet. “How’s this supposed to work? Where’s the full moon?”

“I haven’t given the signal yet,” said Blaise. “You must go outside first. Go on.”

With a fair bit of grumbling, the children followed Sparrow out into the cold rain.

And Blaise whistled sharply.

As one, the sky burst into flame, as a hundred dragons breathed fire into the clouds, heating them into invisible water vapor instantly. For, as Violet had once told Sparrow, the clouds were not puffs of cotton high in the sky, but collections of water vapor that had come to a place that was cool enough, and had condensed there. If the place was suddenly hot, why then, the water vapor would no longer be condensed, and the moon would shine down, if only for a little while.

So it was, that the lowering clouds vanished and were replaced by the sight of a hundred dragons soaring in the night sky, wheeling around the moon, roaring a fierce joy to the heavens. The last of the rain fell and no more came. The moon’s silver light was reflected in the water that lay upon the walkway. The children stood and watched the dragons as they soared.

Sparrow took the mandrake leaf from Miranda, and stepped to the edge of the walkway, turning towards her friends for dramatic effect. “This will be a long journey,” she said, “full of many twists and turns. It may take years. Decades, even. But, we can only reach the end if we dare the beginning. Like so.” She held the mandrake leaf aloft to the moon.

“Wait!” said Jocasta. She ran up to Sparrow. “It will be an entire month that I am missing the taste of your sweet lips, my dear. Let me have one more kiss before I am forbidden.”

“How could I forget,” said Sparrow. “Very well.”

Jocasta kissed her full on the mouth, lingering there for some time. “There,” she said, “I shall be looking forward to that again.”

Jill came up beside Jocasta, and took her hand. They exchanged a glance that said more than words. Then Jill turned to Sparrow, and, still without speaking, tapped Sparrow on the cheek once. Sparrow nodded. Jill kissed her there, then, for as long as Jocasta had done.

“Does anyone else want a piece of me,” said Sparrow.

Cormac and Violet came up and flanked the girl, and each gave her a peck on the cheek.

Miranda hung back with the adults, as if still uncertain.

Sparrow held the leaf up to the light again. “Here’s to the first step,” she said. She cast a sticking charm on the leaf. Then she placed it in her mouth, under her tongue.

And nearly gagged. The taste was bitter, foul. The sticking charm prickled. No wonder it was a challenge to keep the damn leaf there for a month. Perhaps her tastebuds would become numb at some point, but until then she had something in her mouth that she didn’t want to, and she had to fight the urge to spit it out immediately.

But. She was Sparrow Jones, and no little thing like a bitter leaf was going to conquer her, by thunder. She held her tongue down on the leaf until the sticking charm took full effect and the prickles faded.

Miranda finally moved forward. She peered at Sparrow, whose expression was, at the moment, easy to read. “I see,” she said. “You are determined after all. You have chosen to set out on this road, and I know you will follow it to its end, whatever end that may be, for you are willing to endure bitterness and pain in pursuit of your goal."

"Definitely," said Sparrow through gritted teeth.

"My fears for this situation, for your execution of your grand designs, were that you would shoulder burdens onto others, or run at the first hint of trouble, like so many pathetic cowards who raise armies of eager young people, and then abandon them, just to save their loathsome hides. Or that you would be the sort of person who makes lots of suggestions for other people and then fails to live that advice yourself, like some armchair general. But, here you are, leading from the front. You will not abandon me on the journey, nor guide me into anything you yourself cannot handle. Although you might guide me into something you believe you can survive, only to be proven wrong. Hm. Therein lies the real problem. You are in this situation precisely because you are so bold.”

She sighed, and looked up at the moon, at the dragons wheeling in the sky. For a few seconds she appeared to be lost in the sight. Then she turned her gaze to Jocasta, who seemed to be vibrating with anticipation; to Jill, whose steely expression was matched only by Sparrow’s; to Cormac, whose expression of fascinated curiosity was matched only by Violet’s.

She turned her head towards the Professor, who nodded.

“I had hoped to stay out of this business,” said Miranda. “But you know what? Fuck it. I’m in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lethifold, as a concept, seems like it would have added quite a bit of terror to the canonical series. I can't say whether that's good or bad. The creature's mode of feeding is horrifying whether depicted directly or indirectly, and including it in the tale of Harry Potter might have made people think the series was meant for a more mature audience.
> 
> And, as the creature is described as being primarily tropical, it would be a challenge to depict in a series where neither Harry nor Voldemort ever seem to set foot off the island of Britain. You'd have to do a bit of work to figure out how the hell anyone could get a Lethifold all the way from Indonesia to Ipswich. Stuff it in a duffel bag, maybe?
> 
> Not to mention that the primary method of fighting the thing is a spell that Harry Potter mastered by his fourth year, so if it were featured in the canon, the Lethifold would have the unenviable status of being both too scary AND not threatening enough. 
> 
> But Sparrow Jones hasn't managed that spell yet. If she meets one of these things and can't get away, the most she can do is hope is that her shield holds up long enough for rescue. So for me, there remains much room to feature the Lethifold and explore the concept, beyond its scant cameo in Scamander's textbook. And I do wish to explore the concept further. Because to my mind, there few other creatures in the world of Harry Potter quite as terrifying. Dragons, vampires, werewolves, giant spiders, dementors, manticores, oh, they can all be fought with valor and vigor. 
> 
> But a Lethifold is...if a dementor is despair embodied then a Lethifold is horror embodied. Two parts of the horror genre, right? Lack of hope and lack of agency. Nothing you can do, man. Can't fight it, can't run, can't prevent it, can't see it coming. You're doomed.
> 
> And the Patronus is the embodiment of "Oh no I most certainly am NOT doomed, not while I still breathe!" Which is precisely why it can chase away both creatures. The Patronus is made of hope.
> 
> Not that the Lethifold is entirely impossible to escape. It doesn't move all that fast, and if you're lucky you can see it coming. You can nope right out of there, if you see it before it gets you. So Sparrow will eventually figure out how to deal with these fiends. I'm not writing a horror story here. Sparrow lived a horror story when she was 8 years old, but I'm not writing a horror story. The girl has a fighting chance against these things, she has hope, she has a shot.
> 
> But once she's got those beat, then comes the Nundu.
> 
> And you don't beat that with hope.
> 
> Buckle the fuck up, girl. It's gonna be a bumpy ride.


	23. Part 2 begins with a spider and a fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jocasta's peril leads to multiple discoveries.

Only the foolish and the mad have any reason to keep a leaf under their tongue. Only the brave Wizard has any reason to do so for an entire month.

The very brave wizard indeed, and very skilled, because if you intend to keep such a thing secret, you can eat very little besides liquid, and suffer weakness and weight loss thereby – and Sparrow had no weight to lose.

And for a Wizard, who lives by talking to their wand, you can do very little talking without making yourself sound like an idiot. Sparrow felt that her reputation as an idiot was already set, but she didn’t want to add to it, nor take much risk of losing the leaf. Nor take much risk of speaking a spell poorly and having a wild yak land on her head.

Unfortunately she was a 14-year-old girl still learning magic, with years ahead of her before she would be taught how to cast wordless spells. Which meant that she had to speak them. Except for the fact that she couldn’t, because leaf. Which meant that, in every single class except for History of Magic, Care of Magical Creatures, and Potions, her academic standing threatened to plummet like a jinxed broom. The Professors were at a loss to understand why Sparrow refused to speak her spells. She could write answers on parchment, and hand them to someone else to read, but speaking was right out.

"What on earth is the matter with you,” said Professor Budge, having kept Sparrow after class one day. "Do you have some manner of magical ailment?”

Sparrow shook her head, then, realizing that this left her somewhat exposed, nodded her head, then, realizing she might have to explain what the ailment was, shook her head again.

"For God’s sake,” said Professor Budge, "pick one. And think about learning to cast spells silently – yes, I know that’s for a few years ahead. But I know you can do it. It’s been a year since I’ve heard you actually say ‘Protego.’ If you can do that for your most perfected spell, you can do it for others. Here.” He rummaged in his desk and brought out a detached door lock, of the deadbolt variety. "Try using the unlocking spell on this. Just speak the word ‘alohamora’ clearly in your mind and concentrate.”

Sparrow thought to herself _alohamora_ and waved her wand.

The bolt moved a little bit.

"Good,” said Budge. "You have potential. Keep practicing and don’t give up, alright? I’d hate to see my best defensive witch laid low by such circumstances.”

…

Later that evening in the library Sparrow attempted to confide in her more studious friends. Cormac and Violet were sitting at a table reading a book on wandlore together.

Violet was pointing to a particular passage. "Look here,” she said, "Ruxio says that wand cores have to be from magical creatures.”

"But Gregorovitch says they can be anything,” said Cormac. "It’s like…I mean, you know how muggle guns work, right?”

"They go bang.”

"Yeah but the whole point is that when they go bang, they shoot a thing, in a direction –”

"It’s a directed explosion with a bit of shrapnel specifically designed to penetrate something. Please, Cormac, you do not need to doubt my expertise in muggle studies.”

"I’m grumbling about the idea that it has to be a special area of study. Pfeh. Anyway the point is, they also have customs for firearm safety – ”

"Point the weapon at the ground, sky, or target, never rest your finger on the trigger, assume the gun is always loaded, store it in a locked container. I’m always a step ahead of you here, Cormac.”

"Step ahead of me in regurgitating facts, yes. But can you tell me _why_ those rules exist?”

Violet frowned, and looked a bit sullen. "Um…something about the gun always being potentially dangerous, I guess.”

"Getting there.”

"Because…I mean it’s not dangerous if there’s no bullet, right?”

"Wrong! If there’s a bit of powder left and a solid object then it might as well be a bullet when the gun goes bang. You can shoot any little thing out of a gun the same way you can shoot any bigger thing out of a cannon. So what I’m thinking is, maybe it’s the same for wand wood. The wood is like a barrel and the core is like a bullet. So whatever you can fit in the barrel…”

"You need some kind of blasting powder,” mumbled Sparrow. "Otherwise the bullet would just sit there. Magic’s the blasting powder.”

Violet and Cormac looked up at Sparrow, glanced at the other students nearby, then put on exaggerated sneers. They closed their books loudly and stalked off, heads held a little too high. Violet brushed by Sparrow roughly.

It took Sparrow a second to realize that a note had been slipped into her pocket. _Sixth girls dormitory room at midnight,_ it read.

Oh come on. Surely nobody minded the whole "take down the walls of the entire Wizarding World” thing anymore?

…

"You probably shouldn’t be talking too much,” said Violet.

In the sixth room of the girls dormitory, upon the thickly-piled carpet, sat Cormac and Violet. There was the light of a full moon through the mysterious windowpane. Which was odd, because from every single other window in the castle, through the scant gaps in the cloud cover, one could see that the moon had just begun to wane.

Cormac had entered the Common Room in a high dudgeon just the same as he had left the library. He had marched right up to his dorm room and slammed the door. He had then, near to midnight, stolen silently out of his dormitory room and into this one.

Violet, on her part, had not, as far as Sparrow could tell, ever entered the Hufflepuff common room that evening. So how she’d got into this dormitory room was an open question, and Violet didn’t bother to close it. Nor did Sparrow understand why Dormitory Room 6 had come back now.

Whatever the reason, when Sparrow entered the room, both of them had been sitting with their backs to the door, poring over what appeared to the same book as before. When Sparrow had closed the door, neither had given any sign of paying attention, until Sparrow cleared her throat pointedly, three different times. After the third time Violet had finally turned herself around, but Cormac was still fixed on his book.

Sparrow wondered if it was a good or bad thing that these two had each other for a study partner now.

Sparrow sat down upon the carpet. She took a bit of parchment from her pocket, and a ball point pen, and wrote, _I was SLIGHTLY hurt by the whole high-dudgeon act before I realized what you were doing. You think we still need to be circumspect when it sounds like nobody gives a damn?_

"Maybe _you_ don’t,” said Violet. "Everyone lets you say all manner of nonsense because they still think you might be insane. But what if they see a smart person like _moi_ associating with you?”

Sparrow pursed her lips.

"Exactly. They think that either I’ve gone mad, or you’re not mad at all, and then you might be in trouble because people think you’re a threat.”

"Hang on a moment,” said Cormac. "Jocasta and Jill are both associating with Sparrow quite a bit these days.”

Sparrow wiggled her eyebrows.

"That’s no trouble,” said Violet. "They think Jocasta is mad for abdicating the throne of the Prankster Queen, and Jill is mad because…well I mean, she’s angry a lot anyway, so there you go. Easy-peasy.”

Scribble scribble. _I also talk to Miranda a fair amount. You don’t think the Ice Queen could lend me some unwanted credibility?_

"She’s a reclusive genius, yes? She must also be mad.”

_Do you actually know any of this or are you speculating?_

"Some of it is from the rumors. Ah, but I’m keeping you up past your bedtime, aren’t I. What brought you to our table in the first place?”

Scribble scribble scribble. _Studying past midnight is worth the time, I should think. But I have been having some trouble. Professor Budge suggested I learn how to cast spells silently – or else my grades will crash like a drunken dragon – got any tricks up your sleeve? Techniques hidden in old books?_

"Hm,” said Violet. "Silent spell-casting. That’s some advanced stuff, isn’t it? A couple years ahead of us.” She shrugged. "But so is everything else we’re doing, I suppose. Let me think…there was something in the 1970 D.A.D.A. textbook about that. Apparently if you cast a spell silently, you have to get the wand movement perfect? Maybe a verbal spell makes up for lack of precision. I know you have the concentration and intention part set. Try the hand movements and see how it goes. How’s your leaf doing?”

Scribble scribble scribble scribble. _Tastes awful, but no worse than polyjuice, I suppose. The real bugger is that it’s always on my mind, pressing against the bottom of my mouth, against the back of my tongue. So I’m always just a little tenser than I should be. A little more irritable. I can’t relax at all. It’s not doing wonders for my concentration. I should have got a smaller leaf. I can’t believe I haven’t choked on it in my sleep. Where’s Jocasta been, anyway? I thought she was going to help me but I haven’t seen –_

That was where Sparrow’s handwriting stopped abruptly, for in that moment she heard a curious voice, a tiny echoing voice, saying,

__•`HELP ME` •_._

Oddly familiar.

Scribble. _Did either of you hear tha –_ and then Sparrow dropped her pen on the floor when she heard the voice again.

`_• THE SPIDER'S GOING TO GET ME. •_`

"Hear what?” said Cormac. "Sparrow, what’s going on?”

Her mouth full of the leaf, Sparrow just managed to say, "Jocasta. Trouble. C’mon.” She jumped up and ran to the door, not even waiting to see if her friends were following her.

There on the common room floor were milling a great number of people, voices raised in confusion and alarm, asking each other about the mysterious voice and why it had sounded familiar. Many of them, like Cormac, had no idea what people were talking about, but if there was trouble then might as well mill about and panic, right?

Sparrow shook her head. No sense wasting thought on annoyance now. There was the prefect, trying to calm everyone down by promising that he would go and seek the headmistress. It was working for most people. But what if that was too late? Good God, anything other than a mad sprint towards Jocasta could be too late.

Sparrow shook her head. No sense getting tangled in panic now.

"Sparrow,” said Violet, "are you okay?”

` _◊◊ NO! NO, VIOLET, I AM ABSOLUTELY NOT OKAY! THANK YOU VERY MUCH! ◊◊_ `

"Excuse me?” said Violet. "What was – was that you?”

Wait, was that her voice? How was she doing that? Why did she sound like she was speaking in a vast cavern? Damn it, no time to speculate. Heads were turning her direction anyway, now that the Prefect had gone. Pfft. She’d been signing up for this job over the space of three or four years, hadn’t she? Shield Girl, the student body’s unofficial Sworn Protector, who had a level head in a crisis, yes? Who could take charge in the midst of panic, right?

But couldn’t communicate with anyone quickly using paper, right? Crap. She grabbed Violet by the shoulder, brought her close, and muttered, "Grey lady. Fetch. Rouse ghosts and portraits.”

She did the same for Cormac, muttering, "With me. C’mon. Library.”She took Cormac by the arm and dragged him out of the common room.

As they marched to the library, Cormac close at Sparrow’s heels, he made no word to Sparrow, but tried to wake up every portrait in passing. In some cases that actually worked. Soon enough the castle portraits were running to and fro, not knowing entirely why, until Cormac explained that Jocasta Carrow was in trouble, somewhere, somehow, did any of them have any memory of seeing her this evening? The answer was no.

Which meant that either the girl had snuck out after they were all asleep, or she’d been a fly the entire time. Great.

As they neared the library, Cormac finally got up the nerve to speak to Sparrow. "Why exactly are we heading to the library?”

She tapped her nose.

"Smell? Oh. Bit rude."

`_◊◊ I DIDN'T FUCKING ASK YOU! ◊◊_`

"Very rude. How are you doing that?”

`_◊◊ HELL IF I KNOW. ◊◊_`

Here was the library. If the library doors were, in fact, locked at night, as once upon a time they had been, neither they nor Sparrow seemed to notice that fact, although perhaps the deadbolts did. Not very important right now.

"Sparrow, did you realize you’re glowing?”

She looked at her hand. No glow.

"Well you were. What the heck is going on here?”

Shrug. `_◊◊ SOMEONE MAY DIE TONIGHT. MAYBE TWO PEOPLE. THAT'S ALL. ◊◊_`

"Sparrow –”

Ah, and here was the Tim the Librarian, awake in the night as ever. He looked a little confused about why Sparrow and Cormac were in the entry corridor of his library, at night, but Sparrow would not and did not give him time to speculate. She tapped her nose, nodded her head toward the door, and departed, not bothering to wait for him.

Both the Librarian and Cormac jogged to keep up.

"Really,” said Tim, "what exactly is going on here?”

"Jocasta’s in bad trouble,” said Cormac. "We don’t know where she is, I don’t know what kind of trouble, Sparrow won’t tell me anything specific, we’re running out of time. You’ve got a nose. Help?”

"Jocasta…Carrow, I assume? Ah yes. A subtle blend of human and insect, I know that scent. Bit rude to ask that of me, I’ll tell you – "

`_◊◊ SHUT UP AND SNIFF, YOU OLD DUST MOP! ◊◊_`

"Sparrow! Really!” Cormac shook his head. "Do you want to give us some gosh-darn hint so we can actually help you or do you just want to yell obscenities at us?”

Sparrow threw up her hands in frustration. She spun on her heels, faced Cormac, put her thumbs together and tried to wiggle her fingers in the approximate appearance of a crawling creature.

"Oh,” said Cormac. "Well, son of a gosh-darn bitch. Alright Tim, time to move.”

"What was – ”

"Spider.”

Tim took the lead without any more hesitation, leading the children up corridor and down staircase and up staircase, and all the children could do, in that moment, was pray that he was following Jocasta’s trail in the right direction.

Although Sparrow could at least try to do for Jocasta what she’d done to Violet, Cormac, and Tim by this point. _Jocasta? Jocasta where are you? Bitch where the hell are you?_ But no matter how she tried to push those thoughts towards the girl, none of them had the curious echo of the real deal.

That is until, in her desperation, she sent a message that she hoped would reach the girl’s ghost, if nothing else. _`_◊◊ FOR GOD'S SAKE, JOCASTA, I LOVE YOU AND I DON'T WANT TO LOSE YOU. ◊◊_`_

__

__

__

__

__

`_• HEY, THERE’S A FAMILIAR VOICE. LOVE YOU TOO. •_ `

__

`_◊◊ AND THERE’S A FAMILIAR VOICE IN RETURN. DO I SOUND LIKE I’M CRYING? BECAUSE I’M CRYING RIGHT NOW. WHERE IN THE HELL ARE YOU?_`

__

`_• SOME GAP BETWEEN THE WALLS. IF I UN-TRANSFIGURE MYSELF HERE I’M DEAD. SO OF COURSE I HAD TO GET CAUGHT IN A SPIDER WEB. FRESH WEB. I DON’T KNOW IF THE SPIDER IS CLOSE BUT OH GOD THERE’S THE SPIDER. •_`

__

`_◊◊ WHAT CORRIDOR? WHAT FLOOR? ◊◊_`

__

`_• FIFTH FLOOR NEAR THE TRANSFIGURATION CLASSROOM HURRY IT UP PLEASE. WAIT, WHAT IS – OH._`

__

`_◊◊ WHAT IS WHAT? JOCASTA? JOCASTA! JOCASTA! ◊◊_`

__

Fifth floor, opposite corner of the building on today’s schedule, miles away from here, and Jocasta wasn’t responding.

__

`_◊◊ SHIT ON A FUCKING SHINGLE! MOVE! BOTH OF YOU! ◊◊ ◊◊_`

__

Tim started running. Not fast enough. Nothing was fast enough. Some of the ghosts beside them were fast enough. Ha, one of them was even on a horse. Maybe one of them could reach the girl in time to wave her goodbye or something.

__

Why was one of them trotting towards her? A man with his head tucked into the cradle of one arm. What was his name, Sir Pod-something? Never mind, not like he could be in the way. Why was he chuckling?

__

`_◊◊ STOP LAUGHING AND GET OUT OF MY WAY YOU OLD WAR HORSE. ◊◊_`

__

Alright, so those words worked but he wasn’t registering them. Until a gaggle of grey letters appeared around his head, fuzzy and floating as if made of smoke. Alright, _now_ he looked unhappy.

__

"Pardon me to have disturbed your heart any further this evening,” said the horseman, placing his head back on his shoulders with a harrumph, "but I wished to inform you that Ms. Carrow is currently at peace.”

__

`_◊◊ WHAT. ◊◊_`

__

"I mean, at peace in the arms of Jillian Weasley.” He chuckled. "Quite the heroic effort, I should say. Ah, but I assume you wish me to lead you to the scene. Come on, then.” He turned his horse around. "We all have a bit more time, now.”

__

Here, a staircase to the third floor. Sparrow rushed towards it. Then she turned around and gestured wildly to the stairs.

__

"Oh my!” said Sir Podmore. "Eager as anything, eh? I think I begin to understand your frantic behavior, now. Very well! Swift as you please, then.” He kicked his ghostly horse into a canter and led Sparrow on a lively chase, through one corridor and another, up staircase and down, leftways and rightways, slowly and slowly upward, as if fighting a castle that just _would not_ let Sparrow find her beloved.

__

For that was what Jocasta was, was she not? After all?

__

Sparrow had admitted she’d caught feelings. She just didn’t expect to catch that many that fast. And here they were spilling outward, tinging every curse Sparrow sent the castle as they made their twisting way forward, every exhortation, and after a while, every silent plea –

__

Perhaps the castle had finally relented, because here at last was the fifth-floor corridor, where lay a scene Sparrow took a few seconds to comprehend, in her sudden exhaustion.

__

On twelve ghostly horses sat twelve ghostly horsemen, some carrying their heads, some with their heads on their shoulders. In the darkness of the rainy night, only they lit the corridor. They were gazing down at three figures, three shapes she was familiar with – Miranda in her nightgown, slumped against a wall; Jill in her pajamas, slumped forward; and Jocasta, body whole and breathing, in her school robes as if she’d been out all evening, with her head and shoulders in Jill’s lap, fast asleep.

__

The light did not travel much farther than those three. So Sparrow did not notice, at first, the woman coming to stand outside their weak illumination, until a tell-tale knee-length sleeve passed close to one of the horsemen, and Sparrow met a figure she thought she had abandoned.

__

Mrs. Clearwater, Professor Clearwater, Cordelia to her friends, though Sparrow did not feel she deserved to be among them. The Professor of Divination at Hogwarts, a woman whose sole concessions to eccentricity were her trademark long sleeves and floor-length jet-black hair, otherwise a woman of enough intellectual rigor that Sparrow had been thankful her subject was elective after Third Year. Sparrow had not successfully completed an act of divination within that woman’s class, not once in three years.

__

As for Jill, the girl had only half of her first year to experience the same frustration before she had gone straight to the Headmistress to request a transfer to Arithmency, a request made and granted for no reason Sparrow could fathom. So on this evening, when Jill caught sight of that tell-tale sleeve, and seen the woman’s inscrutable face looking down upon her, her eyes flashed red.

__

The sight of this woman distracted both girls from the cat in their midst.

__

And suddenly there was Minverva McGonagall, towering over all three students, as only she could. It did not matter how tall a student was. When McGonagall towered over you, you knew it. In this case, she could do it even in her nightgown, without her tall hat.

__

Which was why Sparrow found it a surprise when she elected to sit down.

__

"What happened,” said McGonagall, in a voice as firm as ever, yet not nearly as stern as her usual.

__

"Some great recklessness on the part of my friends,” said Miranda.

__

"Just the facts, please. Professor Clearwater here has informed me that a student was in grave peril from a spider in a fifth-floor corridor, but she had no further information to offer. I had to assume she was speaking of Jocasta Carrow. What exactly happened here?”

__

"Well. Jill heard Jocasta’s silent plea and I didn’t, so she’s up and out of the Gryffindor common room like a shot and I’m just hanging on. But Jill says – ”

__

"I could get the message,” said Jill, "but I couldn’t send anything back yet. Lucky for us there were all these ghosts running around the place. Figured maybe they might have seen something, right? And then they’re talking about all these grey letters floating around their heads…so someone rounded up the Headless Hunt to look for the source of the letters. Then we run smack into Professor Clearwater here, so I’m all discombobulated, so maybe that had something to do with how I managed to start sending messages back to Jocasta, so we could figure out she was on the fifth floor and what corridor – ”

__

"But not where in the corridor,” said Miranda. "Nor how to get to the fifth floor at night. I swear the staircases and hallways move around more at night than by day.”

__

"You are correct,” said Professor Clearwater. "An effective defense mechanism for this school, if annoying. Pity you were caught on the wrong side of that tonight.”

__

"Yes,” said Miranda. "Well. The Headless Hunt can see where the hell the grey letters are coming from even if we can’t, so once they get us to this corridor they manage to tell us where Jocasta is – and pass a ghostly hand through the wall to give us some light, nice touch, thank you – which is a big help because she’s caught in a spider web in a wall gap small enough to break all her bones if she un-transfigures, and it’s a narrow crack through which either of us can fit our hands. So – what do we do, _accio housefly?_ But that spell doesn’t work on living creatures.”

__

"You could have grabbed the web and brought the fly along with it,” said McGonagall.

__

"Yeah,” said Miranda. "Well. Panic will do terrible things to a mind. Panic is when you default to the option you’ve trained for, right? When your arms take over because your head doesn’t know what to do.”

__

"In my case,” said Jill, "I cast a stunning spell hoping to hit the spider, and I hit both the spider and the fly. And then I thought I might poke around in there to get the fly out, but what if I squish the fly by accident? And then both Miranda and I start to really panic because what if Jocasta wakes up and un-transfigures herself on instinct?”

__

"So I fall back on my usual option,” said Miranda. She reached into a pocket and took out a small vial. "Potions. Transfiguration potion, in this case. I call it the ten-minute polyjuice. Works well enough. I figure I’ll use it and get Jocasta out of there but no, Jill here has to grab the thing and down it before I can utter a word of protest, and then she’s a beetle crawling towards Jocasta and I’m thinking wait a second, did I give her the ten-minute or the two-minute version, and it’s actually the two-minute one – ”

__

"Really,” said Jill, her expression not changing one iota. "Well, whoops.”

__

"So I’m counting down the seconds without being able to tell Jill why I want her to move faster because I don’t want _her_ to panic – ”

__

"I wouldn’t have panicked,” said Jill.

__

Miranda looked nonplussed. "You flew Jocasta out of there with three seconds to spare and you’re not horrified?”

__

Jill shrugged. "It does sound a little disturbing, doesn’t it? Foolhardy, adventurous. Whatever. I would have been fine.” She gently stroked Jocasta’s crown. "More worried about this girl here anyway.”

__

Miranda raised an eyebrow.

__

"Was I not supposed to be more worried about her?”

__

"As I recall,” said the Headmistress, "proper form for an emergency responder is to make sure _you’re_ safe first, so that you avoid making two bodies to haul instead of one. And trying to take the safest route to the victim instead of, oh, I don’t know, nearly re-creating their very peril for yourself. Neither of you could have cut out a section of the wall?”

__

"Erm,” said Miranda. "No. I mean I’m awful at precise wandwork and Jill – ”

__

"Likewise,” said Jill. "Not like there was time anyway, right? Pressed for time. Seconds. No, I sure wasn’t terrified for myself.” She took a deep breath, and then let it out, right into Jocasta’s face.

__

Jocasta stirred, and opened her eyes a little.

__

"Oh!" said Jill. "Sorry, Jo.”

__

" ‘s fine,” murmured Jocasta, and she closed her eyes once more. "I’m fine. You’re here. Sparrow’s here. Miranda’s here. Cordelia's here. McGonagall’s here.” Her eyes flew open. "Um.”

__

McGonagall glanced at the wall. Then at the ghosts. Then at Jocasta, eyes open and unblinking, hand clutching a fold of Jill’s pajama trousers.

__

"Panic,” said McGonagall. "Easy to forget things in such a state.” She flicked her wand. Light poured out of the tip, then flew to one of the wall sconces.

__

The hallway was lit a bit more brightly now. Sparrow could see more of the scene. A few students had arrived at the hallway’s far end, along with Violet, Professor Budge, Professor Wimble, Madame Pomfrey, Madame Abbot, and Professor Longbottom. McGonagall stood up slowly and went over with Professor Clearwater to speak to the adults.

__

Sparrow stood there, still processing everything that had been said. Jocasta. Jill. Miranda. Potion. Panic. Right right. McGonagall. Um.

__

Jocasta.

__

Sparrow rushed forward to where Jocasta lay shivering, and knelt on the cold stone. She gently pressed her forehead to Jocasta’s and closed her eyes. Jocasta's shivers ceased.

__

`_◊◊ YOU LIVE. ◊◊_`

__

`_• I DO RIGHT NOW. •_`

__

`_◊◊ SORRY I COULDN'T BE MORE HELP. ◊◊_`

__

`_• YOU'RE HERE. JILL'S HERE. THAT'S ALL I NEED. •_`

__

`_◊◊ I WOULDN'T HAVE REACHED YOU IN TIME. ◊◊_`

__

`_• YEAH WELL. SOMEONE DID. THANKS FOR INTRODUCING ME TO SOMEONE. •_`

__

`_◊◊ ANY IDEA HOW WE'RE DOING THIS? ◊◊_`

__

`_• NOT A CLUE, SORRY. MAYBE VIOLET KNOWS. SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING EVENTUALLY RIGHT? SLEEP NOW. NIGHT. •_`

__

"Ahem,” murmured Violet. "Can I cut in?”

__

Sparrow raised her head. Violet was sitting beside her, with an expression quite the opposite of her usual know-it-all airy remove. She looked like she was waiting for permission.

__

Sparrow glanced at Jill, who shrugged and murmured, "She’s your friend too. Not hogging her tonight.”

__

Violet put a hand on Jocasta’s head, and gently tousled the girl’s hair.

__

Jocasta smiled just a little.

__

"Sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” said Violet. "Maybe I could have been a level head. Unlike you…passionate people.”

__

"Excuse me,” murmured Miranda, "by passionate, did you mean ‘couple of nincompoops’?”

__

"Maybe.” Violet sighed. "Maybe. Wonder if I would have done any better. Not any braver, that’s for sure.” She looked up at Jill. "Brave. Foolhardy. Wonder what the difference is.”

__

"Hindsight based on results,” murmured Cormac. He sat down next to Violet and touseled Jocasta’s hair. "After-action criticism. What do you do in the moment, though. When a friend’s life is on the line. When the love of your life is on the line. No time to hesitate, I guess. Even if that would be a better idea.”

__

"Good question,” said Miranda. "Not like we have to answer it any more tonight. We’d better not. Although I’m sure everyone and sundry is going to be asking us in a few minutes.” She rose, facing away from Jill, and stood up straight and stern and stone-faced. Cormac rose beside her and adopted the same pose with a softer expression.

__

Sparrow looked behind her. More students gathering. Whispering, muttering. Some of them looking relieved. Most of them looking curious. Not going to be helpful tonight. Even if they did deserve to know. Sparrow turned away from them with a twinge of regret.

__

And there was then one more hand upon Jocasta, pressing against her forehead, then checking behind her ears. The hand of Madame Abbot. And the rest of her. Bending as if to a stubborn child, precise and firm as ever. Only her eyes spoke otherwise.

__

"Still in good health then,” said Madame Abbot. "No fever nor broken bones. Might need a draught of peace to calm her nerves, but that remains to be seen. She looks as though she is in good hands right now.”

__

"Oh,” said Jill. "Um. Thank you. Didn’t think I’d get that kind of praise from you. After what I did to poor Guillermo. And everything else over the years.”

__

Madame Abbot gave her a pointed look. "I could wax poetic about how you’re young and full of fire, but I was referring this time to everyone gathered around. Perhaps if you all keep her out of trouble I won’t lose a promising young witch.” She glanced to the rest of the adults. "Although after the Headmistress gets through with her there might not be enough left to work with. Well, children. Your doom approaches.”

__

"Those are not reassuring words from a school nurse,” said Jill.

__

"Indeed not,” said the Headmistress behind her.

__

Oh dear. _Now_ she was towering.

__

Jill had not jumped, but had frozen in terror. She turned, slowly, and met the eyes of Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, whose expression of barely-contained fury matched that of Jill on a bad day.

__

"We have much to discuss,” said the Headmistress. "Yet not tonight. You been through too much tonight. And it is very late. I will expect to see you all tomorrow at seven.”

__

"Seven in the evening?” said Violet.

__

"Seven in the morning.” She looked up at the students gathering in the hall. "Back to bed, all. Crisis averted. Nothing more to see.”

__

Sir Podmore cleared his throat.

__

McGonagall glanced at him with the same expression she had offered Jill. To his credit, he did not flinch.

__

"The Headless Hunt,” said Sir Podmore, "has yet one more thing to add.”

__

McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

__

Sir Podmore nodded to the remainder of the ghostly horsemen and twirled a finger at them. As one, they dismounted.

__

"To the brave young Wizard Jillian,” said Sir Podmore. As one, the ghosts swept their heads off their shoulders, as one removes their hat in the presence of a Lady. "A knight to her lady, undaunted in the face of danger, more dashing than a galloping stallion, more daring than we. To you, we bow.” They knelt as one. "Should you ever lose your head, we would be honored to have you join us.”

__

Jill looked distinctly uncomfortable with such praise.

__

McGonagall had her palm over her face. She took a deep breath, regained her composure, and said, "Rise, sir Podmore. And meet me in my office at 6 tomorrow.” She shot a glare at the crowd within the hallway. "Good. Night. _Everyone_.”

__

Now it was Sir Podmore’s turn to look uncomfortable. But he composed his features, placed his head back on his shoulders, mounted his horse with the rest of the Headless Hunt, and departed for wherever ghosts went.

__

And the students departed for wherever the students went. The places they were all supposed to be in the first place, if tonight’s terror had not occurred. Sparrow could not help but be a little cross with Jocasta for causing such a fuss. But then, if she had not caused a fuss tonight, perhaps she would have caused much more of a fuss the next morning.

__

Jill stood, scooping up Jocasta without a trace of visible effort on her part. She nodded to Sparrow, and gave her a gentle kiss on the top of her head. Then she turned to Madames Pomfrey and Abbot, and followed them away.

__

The remaining children departed, Sparrow and Cormac with their arms over each other’s shoulders, Violet and Miranda sticking close, and, at some distance, Professor Clearwater.

__

Sparrow tolerated the woman’s presence for a few turns, then turned around to face her.

__

Not that she could say anything. But perhaps it was easy for anyone to read Sparrow’s expression in this moment.

__

"I tried,” said Professor Clearwater.

__

"Tried,” said Violet. "Couldn’t have done it a bit earlier?”

__

"I have been trying,” said the Professor. "I have been trying to look ahead to your coming dangers since December. Trying daily, trying nightly, always failing until just before the moment.”

__

`_◊◊ OH. THAT'S...SOMEWHAT REASSURING. AND DISTURBING. ◊◊_`

__

"Call it a painful subject of my own.”

__

"What about tomorrow?” said Cormac. "Do you have any idea what McGonagall will do to us tomorrow?”

__

"If I wished to terrify you all,” said Professor Clearwater, "I would say the answer requires no divination. But my crystal ball did not inform me of anything happening tomorrow. So whatever McGonagall does to you, it can’t possibly be _immediate_ peril.”

__

Cormac did indeed look terrified.

__

"Professor Longbottom and I will be there to offer our support and disappointment, if that helps any.”

__

Cormac shook his head.

__

"That is all I can offer you,” said the Professor. "I am sorry.” She turned, and swept away, moving fast enough for her hair to trail out behind her.

__

And so the children were at last left with none but each other, to make their careful way towards rest. For once, the castle was giving them a straightforward course.

__

"Ravenclaw’s in the opposite direction tonight,” said Cormac, as they approached an intersection. "Right?”

__

"Figured you would want company all the way back,” said Violet.

__

"Fair enough.” He yawned. "Might fall asleep here if Sparrow wasn’t keeping me upright.”

__

"Talking of which,” said Miranda, "Gryffindor’s in the direction of this turn. I could stay with you all the way, but then, I might fall asleep and topple right onto you. Or fall asleep in the hallway and stay there all night.”

__

"I know _Levicorpus_ well enough,” said Violet. "Hm, maybe I ought to help you get back to Gryfindor. Cormac, you’re alright then?”

__

"Should be.”

__

"Come on then.” Violet took Miranda by the hand, not appearing to register her startled look, and led her away.

__

So it was just Cormac and Sparrow after all.

__

But that was enough.

__

"Sparrow?”

__

"Hm?”

__

"Sorry I couldn’t be more useful tonight.”

__

"Hrm?” Sparrow gave Cormac a confused glance.

__

"Miranda helped. Violet helped. You helped.”

__

"Hrm.”

__

"But I didn’t.”

__

Sparrow chuckled.

__

"What?”

__

`_◊◊ CORMAC, MY STEADFAST FRIEND. YOU DID DO SOMETHING IMPORTANT TONIGHT. ◊◊_`

__

"No I didn’t! You got Violet to rouse the ghosts and Miranda had that potion and it all fit very neatly together. What exactly did I do that was useful?”

__

`_◊◊ YOU KEPT ME SANE. ◊◊_`

__

"Oh. I guess that’s…something.”

__

`_◊◊ YOU SOUND LIKE YOU'RE SELLING YOURSELF SHORT. ◊◊_`

__

"It doesn’t exactly sound active.”

__

`_◊◊ COMPARED TO A MAD DASH OF RESCUE? YES. BUT WHEN I SAY YOU KEPT ME SANE TONIGHT, I MEAN I KNEW I COULD RELY ON YOU. YOU HAVE TRIED MANY TIMES TO KEEP ME ON THE RIGHT TRACK. I MIGHT HAVE GONE OFF THE RAILS A WHILE AGO IF YOU WEREN'T AROUND. WHO KNOWS HOW THAT MIGHT HAVE PLAYED OUT TONIGHT? ◊◊_`

__

"Probably alienated everyone trying to help you.”

__

`_◊◊ HIGHLY LIKELY. ◊◊_`

__

"I suppose that’s alright then. For what it’s worth…I feel the same way about you sometimes. That you’re a good friend to have around. In case I fly off my own rails.”

__

`_◊◊ YOU'RE SURE? AFTER I'VE DRAGGED YOU INTO MY PERSONAL AMBITIONS? I CAN'T THINK OF WHAT I DO FOR YOU. ◊◊_`

__

"Same thing you do for everyone. Give me a little hope in a crummy old world. I didn’t get dragged into anything, Sparrow. I’m following your course warily, remember? You make my life more interesting than it would be otherwise. ”

__

`_◊◊ DON'T WISH FOR TOO MUCH OF THAT. ◊◊_`

__

"Fair enough.”

__

They said nothing more as they made their way down to the Hufflepuff House. Nor when they entered the common room. But when they hugged each other there in the doorway, they did so tightly enough, and long enough, that Sparrow knew Cormac feared what she feared – dawn, and doom in its wake.

__

And so, each of them worried of fitful sleep, and unwilling to leave the other alone in the night, they decided that they would not rest in their rooms. It was not as though Sparrow could even drag herself up the stairs. It was not as though Cormac could bear to see her try. He could get up the stairs, and he could fetch his quilt from his trunk, and he could stumble back down the stairs, and if that was the most he could do, it was enough.

__

They slept on a couch by the fireplace, side by side, the quilt keeping their bodies warm as it could. It was enough. They had each other.

__

…

__

Sparrow’s dream that night was of hot chocolate and marshmallows, amidst falling snow.

__

And the uneasy feeling that she had never seen such things before.

__


	24. In which Minerva McGonagall does not know what to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Headmistress of Hogwarts should have no reason to allow this nonsense. She never should have tolerated Sparrow's proclamations at all. So why does she hesitate to expel everyone involved in this conspiracy?

Six children sat around a table, before an empty fireplace, on a cold morning.

Sparrow was close by Jill’s side on a setee; Jocasta on Jill’s lap; Cormac and Violet in separate chairs pushed close together; Miranda perched cross-legged on an ottoman she had dragged away from the settee, sitting with her back straight and eyes looking far beyond anything in front of her.

One herbology professor sat at a desk in the corner, head bowed over a stack of papers.

One divination professor stood facing the bookshelves, head pressed against the glass, as if she had narrowed her search for a book to one shelf. But from what Sparrow could see of her expression reflected in the glass, she did not look like she was concentrating. She looked quite a bit like a student who was hoping the teacher would not call on them. 

One Headmistress stood facing the high window, between the children and the grey world. She had a huge book open on a reading stand in front of her.

All three adults had been in their current places when the children came in. McGonagall had acknowledged the children as they entered, and directed them to be seated, but had said nothing more. Professor Clearwater had waved her hand without turning around. Professor Longbottom had not given any greeting to the children at all. All three had left the children to contemplate their fate.

Miranda, for her part, upon seeing Professor Longbottom within the room, had not taken the sight very well. As the children sat around the firelace her eyes had begun to glow blue, and the air around her had started to drop in temperature until Violet had placed a hand over Miranda’s clenched fist, and laid her forehead on the girl’s shoulder. An awkward position for both, but it worked. The blue glow faded.

And for a while a tense silence had reigned.

Until Jocasta spoke.

“Well," she said. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag now, eh? Or the fly. Not sure what sort of bag you would use for a – "

McGonagall slammed the book shut.

Jocasta’s mouth closed with an audible click.

For a moment more nothing more was said.

Then the Headmistress let out a deep sigh. “My apologies, Miss Carrow. I am…I have been struggling to contain myself over the past week. It is too easy for me to lash out at the first person who looks as though they are putting a foot wrong."

For a moment, she said nothing more.

Then, “Mister Longbottom, do you wish to speak first?"

“Nope."

“Ahem."

“You think I can face anyone when I’m this embarrassed?"

“We’re all embarrassed," said Professor Clearwater. “If I’m reading everyone in the room right."

“Embarrased is not how I would describe my feelings," said McGonagall. “I think the proper word is ‘betrayed’. Mister Longbottom, if you wish to disobey me in this moment, I do not think you have a leg to stand on."

“Fine."

Sparrow heard his chair scrape as he pushed it back, heard him amble over to the children, saw him collapsing into a chair out of the corner of her eye. But she dared not look in his direction. She did not deserve to. Considering what icy stare she could see on Miranda’s face, she did not want to know what stony gaze the Professor was meeting it with.

“I don’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to disobedience," said Professor Longbottom, “but I have one to stand on when it comes to what we discussed, even if I can’t stand on the other. Permission to speak flippantly?"

“Denied."

“Oh come on! I’m trying to ease the tension here. You’re all at sea, I’m mad at you as much as I’m ashamed of myself, Cordelia here is clearly not looking for a book, Miss Carrow looks like she thinks her life is over, Miss Jones doesn’t even want to look at me, and I’m getting an arctic blast from Miranda. Just because I didn’t like your plan – "

“It’s not a plan, it’s an idea. I don’t actually know what to do."

That dawn, Sparrow and Cormac had briefly discussed what the Headmistress might do to them. Detention for a year seemed like the kindest of all options. Possibly suspension and sending each of them straight back home, or wherever Cormac might go, perhaps to Violet’s house, certainly not to stay in the castle from whose academy he had been suspended, no? Possibly expulsion – the deaths of their wands and the ruin of their dreams.

They had considered one of these possibilities, and only these possibilities. In the scant words that everyone else had been willing to speak, they had not given credit any other option, save perhaps for being turned into frogspawn and tossed into the lake, or, most and least merciful, being hit with memory charms.

Sparrow knew the Headmistress, knew her history and her reputation. A living legend, one of the mightiest Wizards of the age, leader of the defense of Hogwarts against the worst enemy her world had ever known. Solid as a rock, unshakeable by storm and sea, a landmark in good times, a bulwark in bad times. For all that Sparrow’s world contained wielders of dark magics, not a single one had ever dared approach Hogwarts in the years Minerva McGonagall served as its leader.

Once upon a time, what felt like very long ago now, McGonagall had said she was all the security her office needed. Sparrow had not questioned her then. She had known the statement to be plain fact. At idle times Sparrow had wondered if she would need to stand in defense of her peers against mighty foes someday, and thought that, if such peril came to pass, her burden would be much lighter with Minverva McGonagall standing at her side.

This was the woman who now said she did not know what to do.

That was a possibility Sparrow had not considered.

And it was more terrifying than any scenario she had thought possible.

If it had been slightly less terrifying, then Sparrow would have been visibly shivering. As it was, she felt like she was frozen solid. Worse than when Jocasta had squelched her own tenuous welcome in the greenhouse. That was a surprise, a momentary lapse, a bit of foolishness for which one could apologize and then promise to scrub every window for the next month, and such thoughts could shake one out of the paralysis of terror. But this?

It was as if she had tied her boat to the great rock, and then discovered that the knot had given way in the night, and she was alone on the wide sea without a star in sight.

She had shaken the great rock and it was her fault. In her paralysis, that was the only thought in her head: My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault.

`_• HEY NOW!_` whispered a familiar voice.` _• DON'T HOG ALL THE BLAME. WE'RE BOTH DUMBASSES. •_`

`_◊◊ JOCASTA, NOW IS NOT A TIME FOR JESTS. ◊◊_`

`_• IT IS IF THEY SHAKE YOU OUT OF YOUR MENTAL LOOP. •_`

"…so if I tell you kids to be more circumspect I’m telling you something true and vital, but at the same time I feel like a horrible person for saying it. I feel like I’m telling you all to risk the same battle-fatigue I went through, and I wound up with enough trouble ever afterwards to make me wonder how my dear Hannah puts up with me. Sparrow? You look like you turned to stone there for a minute. Are you okay?"

`FOR A GIVEN VALUE OF OKAY, NO.` But the words did not echo in Sparrow's head. Once again Sending had failed her.

She grumbled as she brought out her pen and parchment and scribbled upon it, _My apologies, Professor Longbottom. I quite lost my concentration for a minute and missed the greater part of your speech. Please tell me, what causes you to worry about us being circumspect?_

She handed the parchment to the Professor.

He read it with an expression that implied a slight degree of exasperation. “As if I wanted to admit that again!" he said. “Somehow not a single one of us, Blaise included, noticed that a cat had followed us into the room."

`_◊◊ JESUS BLOODY CHRIST ON A POGO STICK. ◊◊_`

The Professor flinched as if struck, and looked around the room.

Cormac pointed to Jocasta. Violet pointed to Sparrow. Jocasta pointed to Sparrow. Sparrow pointed to Jocasta. Jocasta gave Sparrow a pointed look.

“Oh right," said the Professor. “That…mental cry thing. Nice bit of work, and you’d better figure out how to get a handle on it or you might expose your own thoughts too easily."

`_◊◊ I KINDA DID THAT ALREADY DIDN'T I? FOR ALL I KNOW, MY TITS ARE TOAST IF I STEP OUT THE CASTLE DOORS. ◊◊_`

“An excellent point," said McGonagall without turning around. “Although slightly exaggerated for your own person, Little Miss Immovable Object. The safety of your friends, on the other hand, that is an open question."

“I don’t have to worry," said Jill. “I am immune to being toasted. Watch."

Before anyone could think to object, she had placed Jocasta to the side, moved to the fireplace, and started a fire with a wave of her hand.

McGonagall finally turned at the unexpected sound of crackling fire, and looked relieved to see that it was safely contained. Then she looked confused. “Jill, why did you – "

“Watch." Jill knelt, stuck her hand in the fire, and held it for a hot second. “When I’m right I’m right," she said, as she drew her hand back. She turned back to the gathered Wizards. She held her hand up. “See? Not a burn on me."

Everyone in the room stared at her in open-mouthed shock, save for Professor Clearwater, who had not turned to witness the performance.

“Um," said Cormac. “You might want to get a handle on that too."

“How do I get a handle on not being burned?"

“The fireplace!" said Violet. “How did you light the fireplace?"

Jill shrugged.

McGonagall and Longbottom looked at each other with the expression Sparrow remembered from her parents at Christmas. In this case it was less quick do something and more Can we even handle this?

“Fascinating work though," said Miranda. “Wandless magic. A rare talent. You just waved your hand and – " she waved her hand in the direction of the fireplace.

The mantle over the fireplace was suddenly covered in frost.

For a moment, nobody in the room spoke, or blinked.

Longbottom put his face in his hands.

Professor Clearwater sighed. “It appears that all of us are not only embarrassed, but in over our heads."

“You sound like you want to be involved in this," said Professor Longbottom, in a slightly muffled voice."

“I don’t." Professor Clearwater strode over to the staircase that led to the office’s second level, still not facing anyone. “But I have my responsibilities as you do." She disappeared up the stairs.

Jill watched her go, and said, “I would just as soon Mrs. Clearwater keep her specific profession out of our lives."

“Nothing doing!" came the professor’s voice from somewhere up above them.

“Look," said Professor Longbottom, fixing Jill with a look of exasperation. “When I say ‘get a handle on it’ I think what I should be saying is that I am extremely worried for all of you. I was worried that your world-changing goals were coming from places of old pain, manifesting as heedless haste and unchecked impulses. Now I am worrying that such pain is manifesting as the sort of magic that Wizards get up to when they are forced to do none. As water seeping through a dam."

“Like what happened to Dumbledore’s little sister," said Violet. “And…that didn’t turn out well."

“Like water bursting through a dam," said Cormac. “Pity everyone downstream."

“Pity," said Professor Longbottom. “Perhaps it was pity that stayed my hand from hindering you. Yet if that is true, then perhaps pity also stayed my hand from steering you on a safe course. Pity that paralyzed me. But then, it sounds as though I am deflecting blame from the grave mistake I made. Now guidance is vital to your survival, and the survival of people around you."

Cormac glanced upward. “I think I can guess why Professor Clearwater is avoiding us, then. It sounds as though she’s been dealing with this question for a while."

“She has," said McGonagall. “And I do not believe she deserves any shame, considering that she has been informing me of her frustrations for weeks now."

Jill snorted. “Miss-know-it-all doesn’t know as much as she wants. What a pity."

The Headmistress gave Jill a cold stare. “Jillian Mina Patil. If you would be so kind as to refrain from insulting a professor of this school in my presence, then perhaps you would also be wise enough to recognize that you are already on thin ice. Please apologize to the Professor."

Jill sat silent for a moment, looking away as if struggling to decide. Finally she let out a deep breath, and said, “I am sorry. I have been carrying a grudge for a while, but not from anything Professor Clearwater did."

“What then?" said Violet.

Jill drew her finger across her lips, as if to say they were sealed.

“I never know as much as I wish," said Professor Clearwater’s voice from somewhere above. “Any seer who claims a high success rate is either a liar or deluded. But there is quite a difference between an unclear reading, and having the crystal ball literally jump off the table every time you try to read someone’s future. And the mug of tea. I even tried oracle bones and they just formed a question mark."

Jill’s expression went from one of conflict to confusion. “How is that possible? My grandmother used to read my fortune all the time without any trouble."

“Perhaps," said McGonagall, “you have opened yourself to too many possibilities. Divination is about looking ahead on someone’s particular path, and ever since December you have all been at a crossroads. Hopefully this morning’s discussion will make it clear which path you are actually on, and render divination possible."

“That remains to be seen," said Professor Clearwater’s voice from above, now a little more distant."

“Both of us dropped the ball," said Professor Longbottom.

“Not funny!"

“Wasn’t trying to be. I’m just saying – both of us failed to offer the guidance that we could have. The difference is, you had the ball slapped out of your hands, and I just…tossed it back to the children here, after Miranda had thrown it to me thinking I would know what to do. Guidance is vital to everyone’s survival here and I muffed it."

“Guidance," said McGonagall, “and reassurance." She lifted the huge book from its reading stand, and, passing Professor Longbottom and the children, carried it to an open wooden case on a table near her desk. She placed the album in the case, shut the lid, and tapped it with her wand. There was the sound of many bolts sliding closed. “Such as some of us did not receive, when it might have saved us, such that many more of us were not saved. Terrible business. I only wish that, for once in your miserable lives, you children can relax."

“And yet you would send them into a war?" said Longbottom.

“No!" said McGonagall, as she spun around. “That’s what you’re not getting, young man! It is about IF, not WHEN! I am saying that IF these children would risk having war brought against them, they MUST prove that they have the capability to survive it! It is about preparation! I am not willing to spend lives like they’re pawns! Not like…like Albus did to us, sometimes."

Sparrow had heard many things over the years. But she had never heard anyone speak ill of the memory of Albus Dumbledore. Not once.

“I wonder," said Longbottom, “if he ever came home from the war either."

“I don’t think he did," said McGonagall. “Never had the chance, did he? He knew the war wasn’t over. He knew Mr. Riddle was still out there. He knew everyone saw him as the rock they stood on. So, he never stopped playing that role. Never found peace."

“Did you?" said Jill.

McGonagall turned to Jill and, for a moment, looked affronted at Jill's fairly personal question. But then her expression changed to one of old pain. “I do not know," she said. “I would like to think so. But based on what I might decide…I would say otherwise. I am still organizing my thoughts around such a framework of opposition and struggle. As for what they are...I would not call it an insane idea but I wonder if it is too audacious. Mr. Longbottom, you had the other leg you wanted to stand on." She sat down at her desk. “Would you care to continue?"

“I am sorry," said Longbottom. “That is the leg I did not wish to stand on. You could say it is a matter of my administrative authority, and thus worth discussing here. But I consider it a personal matter between me and Miranda. Permission to avoid that subject?"

McGonagall sighed. “Granted. Professor Clearwater, if you would please come down here and tell the children what you wished to tell them?"

“I’ve told them everything I want to," said Professor Clearwater.

“What you said you would tell them, I mean."

“Fine."

The Professor at least re-appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes were downcast, and she did not meet anyone’s gaze as she moved to stand before them in front of the fireplace. Until at last she stood up a bit straighter, met Sparrow’s gaze, and said, “Is it particularly hard for you to guess why your Headmistress was in a position to follow you through that door in the first place?"

Sparrow shook her head.

Jocasta shrugged. “I thought one of the ghosts had tipped off McGonagall after all. But it was you, eh? Trying to run interference like Longbottom couldn’t."

Now the Professor looked fierce. “I was trying to do the one thing I thought I could for you. Forcing the matter into the hands of someone who could guide you, instead of me with my daily failures. I was not trying to run interference, Jocasta Hestia Carrow, and if you think of sincere help that way I should think you will have a wonderful career in politics, or would if I had been able to warn you about your course, ahead of time. But I couldn’t, because I couldn’t see your course, because you are all, apparently, a deck full of JOKERS."

For a moment no one spoke.

Until Jocasta broke the silence again.` _• AH. THAT MAKES TWICE THIS MORNING I'VE PUT MY FOOT IN IT. •_`

“Correct," said the Professor.

“Six wild cards in a deck," said Miranda. “And even a crystal ball couldn’t predict that I would take the honorable course in doing something that was stupidly illegal."

“Indeed not," said Jocasta. “If someone wanted to predict that, they would just have to know you on a personal basis."

“Sure threw me for a loop," said Professor Longbottom.

“So what made the prediction different this time?" said Violet. “The crystal ball finds us confusing most days, but then it shows us conspiring?"

“It showed me Jocasta’s predicament last night," said Professor Clearwater. “Perhaps your fateful discussion in the Dragon Tower was a similar moment of peril, had you not found qualified help."

Professor Longbottom looked away.

“Blaise doesn’t count?" said Violet.

“Blaise is _how_ old?"

“Nineteen."

“And they are _whose_ sibling?"

“Mine."

“There you go," said Professor Clearwater. “Compromised in more ways than one."

Violet’s expression was suddenly stony. “Please do not refer to my elder sibling in that manner."

McGonagall nodded to Professor Clearwater, and said, “Thank you, Cordelia. I think you have made your concerns clear to these children. As for what Professor Longbottom has told me – Miranda, you did the right thing, and the wrong thing. You upheld the spirit of your oath to atone for your earlier transgressions, and put your favorite teacher in a position where he had to choose between being a friend and being an administrator. I wonder how much I ought to blame him for choosing neither."

Miranda’s face was easy to read. But now Sparrow did not wish to read it. For the girl wore an expression that Sparrow had only seen a trace of before, in the moment when she had laid her sword at Sparrow’s feet – sorrow, and shame.

“As for me," said McGonagall, drawing up a chair in front of the fire, “I have much to explain on my part as well. You all might be wondering why on earth I did not stop you at any point that evening."

All the children nodded, as did both professors.

“Let me begin by saying, I feel as though I am in the same bind when it comes to all of you children. You are all very lucky that Sparrow had the courtesy to discuss her basic goals with me before this point, and that Professor Clearwater here alerted me to your actions well before I would have found them out, or else I would have treated you all far more harshly. As it is, I feel betrayed instead of infuriated. You all chose to avoid asking my aid for a subject that is my primary area of expertise, after all. It feels like a personal affront instead of a mere measure of disobedience."

“How could we possibly have done otherwise?" said Jocasta. “It was unrealistic to hope that Professor Longbottom would condone this. It was impossible to imagine you doing the same."

McGonagall sighed. “You were accurate, in your assumption. As the chief administrator of this institution, I have no room to condone illegal behavior. I made that clear to Sparrow here. I do not have the room to smile and nudge and wink as a teacher might do. I cannot be seen to play favorites, nor do I wish to do so out of sight. I am not Professor Slughorn with his Slug Club. If I don’t uphold a basic fairness around here…if I don’t actually uphold the rules…then what rules are there except my own whim? I would be a monarch, a despot, a tyrant, dispensing favors and deciding who thrives and who withers. My administration would be entirely overtaken by politics."

“And yet," said Jocasta, “you wanted us to consult you on this matter?"

“Yes! I would have told you to do this above-board as I told Sparrow to push for legal reform above-board. So that I could try to help you with an endeavor that is incredibly risky. But no, you decided that I could not be trusted. But now, If I wish be a friend to any of you…I will always remember that you thought I was too dangerous and too inflexible. So now I wonder if I ought to even bother trying to help you, or if I ought to just tell you to scrap your ideas and focus on your studies.

“Except that, considering your behavior, you’ve all made it very clear that such a command would be obeyed for about half a second. Your spirits apparently cannot be contained by even the normal course of Wizarding life. As if the current state of the Wizarding World is to you what the house of Dumbledore was to Albus’ poor sister. I worry that you are all on a train hurtling out of control down a grade.

“And yet. From what I have observed, from what I remember of Sparrow’s speech at the Grand Duel, from what I have heard you all say about the matter, you yourselves are desperately trying to apply the brakes, because you all know how much danger you might unleash – not just for yourself but for others. You have committed to your current course of extreme illegality in order to properly ascertain if the longer-term one is even necessary or desired. Which is…far less selfish than most scofflaws. My goodness me, it is as if you actually care about the consequences of your actions! But not the consequences of how you treat your elders. So now you can see why I have been in a pickle all week, just the same as both Professors here. I am desperate to help you all lest you explode, yet unable to do so on a clandestine basis as you wish, and worried that working with you either way would be like touching a hot stove."

`_◊◊ I AM SORRY FOR THE PAIN I HAVE CAUSED YOU. ◊◊_`

McGonagall had a faraway look in her eyes. “Whatever pain you have caused me seems to be less than the pain this little world has caused you. I tell you, Sparrow, I am scared. I am scared that you will come to a tragic end no matter what course we take here – perhaps swiftly, if you continue on your current course, or delayed, if you are forced to keep yourself contained forever – and who knows which end would be more destructive to others?"

`_◊◊ I DO NOT KNOW. I THINK THAT, IF THE WIZARDING WORLD HAD EVER BOTHERED TO PRODUCE PROFESSIONAL THERAPISTS, NONE OF US WOULD BE SUFFERING AS WE ARE NOW – THOUGH I WONDER IF THE CARROW FAMILY WOULD HAVE LET JOCASTA OBTAIN SUCH COUNSEL? IF IT THREATENED HER FATHER’S CONTROL OVER HER? AS IT IS, WE SIX HAVE BEEN ABLE TO TAKE COUNSEL IN EACH OTHER, FOR GOOD AND FOR ILL. ◊◊_`

“And seemingly encourage each other’s foolishness," said Professor Longbottom.

`_◊◊ AND KEEP EACH OTHER ALIVE IN DOING SO. ◊◊_`

“How do you figure?"

`_◊◊ EACH OF US HAS BEEN INSTRUMENTAL IN LAYING OUT THE CURRENT COURSE. ◊◊_`

Sparrow tapped her head against Jill’s shoulder, then against Jocasta’s head.

`_◊◊ HAD IT NOT BEEN FOR THE ADVICE OF THESE TWO, I VERY WELL WOULD HAVE DIED OUT THERE IN THE FORBIDDEN FOREST FOR MY REFUSAL TO CAST A CURSE. ◊◊_`

She rose, and went over to Cormac, laying a hand lightly on his shoulder.

`_◊◊ HAD IT NOT BEEN FOR THE ADVICE OF THIS LAD, AND THE ARGUMENTS OF MY DEAR JILL, I WOULD HAVE HURTLED FORWARD ON MY INITIAL COURSE AND SMASHED AGAINST THE WALLS OF MY WORLD WELL BEFORE THIS POINT. ◊◊_`

She moved to stand before Miranda, and offered her a brief, formal bow.

`_◊◊ HAD IT NOT BEEN THE AMBITION OF FRIEND MIRANDA, AND THE AMBITION OF MY DEAR JOCASTA, I WOULD NOT CURRENTLY HAVE THE CHANCE TO TAKE THE NARROW AND SLIPPERY PATH AROUND THE MINISTRY’S ROAD BLOCKADE, SUCH THAT I WOULD HAVE LESS DELICATE MEANS TO FOLLOW THE ADVICE JILL AND CORMAC HAVE OFFERED. ◊◊_`

She stood before Violet, and offered her the same bow.

`_◊◊ HAD IT NOT BEEN FOR MY LADY OF THE BOOK, WHO TAUGHT ME HOW TO DO PROPER RESEARCH, I MIGHT STILL BE STUCK IN THE LIBRARY BANGING MY HEAD AGAINST A LACK OF INFORMATION – ◊◊_`

“If only that were true," said McGonagall.

`_◊◊ – AND MARCHING RIGHT DOWN TO THE MINISTRY TO GET THOSE BOOKS BACK, NEVER MIND THINGS LIKE DOOR GUARDIANS OR ALARMS OR MAGICAL WARDS OR THE ENTIRE AUROR CORPS STANDING IN MY WAY. ◊◊_`

Sparrow returned to her seat, noticing the slightly bashful looks on the faces of her friends.

“Marching to war to get some books," said Violet. “I fear that for Sparrow it is likely."

“And for all I know," said Jill, “I would have gone with her because I saw it as a chance to smack around some adults who deserve smacking, and never mind the cost to myself."

“That’s a hypothetical," said McGonagall.

“True enough. But it is true that without Sparrow, I might have died for venturing into the Forbidden Section of the library alone. Or for the incident with the falling rocks. Or for the time Felonius Fimblewinter accidentally set the Hufflepuff table on fire. Or for the time a bludger smacked me off my broom during beater practice."

“Excuse me," said McGonagall, “What was that about the Forbidden Section?"

Jill waved a hand. “Tell you later."

_"Ahem."_

Jill glanced at Sparrow.

Sparrow nodded.

Jill took a deep breath. "Me and Sparrow ventured into the Forbidden Section of the library and all the Monster Books tried to eat us and then Sparrow and I confessed that we both had romantic feelings for each other and then I kissed her and then the books were all floating around for some reason."

For a moment many of the gathered Wizards exchanged glances, but nobody said anything.

Jocasta put the back of her hand her forehead and swooned. “Oh my goodness, how shall I choose between my suitors now? They are both dashing!"

“And clearly prone to illegal behavior even without this current foolishness," said McGonagall.

“Can’t say I would have died from getting into a scrape," said Cormac, “but I will tell you that I’ve been kind of dying to tell people what I was about for a while. Couldn’t exactly explain the whole business without looking like I hated the Statute of Secrecy, could I? Didn’t find anyone besides Violet here I could speak to in confidence. So that whole business with the Dragon Tower…it was an opportunity to air certain grievances I would worry about airing otherwise, and meet some interesting folks I otherwise might have been nervous to approach, or unwilling." He gave Jocasta a pointed look.

“And I feel about the same," said Violet. “And I don’t often meet people as studious as me who are also less than arrogant."

“I wouldn’t call this business less than arrogant," said McGonagall.

“Call it audacious," said Jocasta.

“Chutzpah," said McGonagall. “Audacity implies something to admire."

“If I hadn’t met Sparrow," said Miranda, “I might not have met Jocasta. Hm. Okay, maybe that’s not a good example. Wait, yes it is. If I hadn’t met Jocasta she wouldn’t have encouraged me to keep going with my experimental potions past the point of being embarrassed for the fox incident, thereby to develop the very potion that saved her life later."

`_• I WOULD CERTAINLY BE DEAD IF SPARROW HAD NOT INTRODUCED ME TO EVERYONE HERE. AS I UNDERSTAND IT, EACH OF THEM WAS INSTRUMENTAL IN MY SURVIVAL. •_`

“Ah ha," said Professor Clearwater. “Perhaps that’s it. I was trying to see the individual course for each person here, instead of trying to look at them all at once. Whatever futures you children have may depend upon you sticking together."

McGonagall rested her chin in her hand, lost in thought. For a minute no one dared speak.

Then she shook her head, and rose from her seat, moving once more to stare out the window.

“So you kids are really tangled together then," said Longbottom. “Can’t live without each other, even if you’re all egging each other on here. And all for…a goal I wouldn’t necessarily call dubious."

“Many would," said McGonagall as she turned back to the gathered Wizards. “Especially when it comes to the social implications. Oh! Imagine telling the muggles that there had been a community of people with terrifying powers, hidden in their midst all this time. How in heaven’s name would it be possible to avoid creating chaos from such news? How long would it take the muggles to start trying to attack us in fear?"

`_◊◊ IF IT’S CLEAR TO THEM THAT THEY HAVE A CHANCE TO DO MAGIC, MAYBE THEY WON’T BE AS SCARED._`

“Right," said McGonagall. “As if that’s easy."

“Neither is curing lycanthropy," said Miranda. “But hell, I’ll try it. We’re all encouraging each other’s ambitions here."

“Excuse me," said McGonagall. “You want to do what?"

“Will you look at that," said Professor Clearwater. “I drew another joker."

“Hardly a jest," said Miranda. “But it’s a long story."

“Right," said McGonagall. “Right. And yet." She turned back to the window. “I can’t help but wonder if all of this tomfoolery has been because I wouldn’t let Sparrow make the hills green."

`_◊◊ IF IT WAS ONLY THAT I WOULD HAVE DONE IT BY NOW._`

“Mind how you go about openly defying my authority any further," said McGonagall. 

`_◊◊ I FEAR THAT I WILL, IF YOU FORBID ME. LIKE WATER SEEPING THROUGH A DAM. BUT IT IS NOT YOU WHO FORBID ME. IT IS NOT YOU WHO HAVE DAMMED THE RIVER. IT IS THE STATUTE OF SECRECY. AND LOOK WHERE WE ARE NOW. ◊◊_`

Sparrow rose, and gestured at the window.

`_◊◊ CROPS THAT FAIL, LIVESTOCK WITHERING IN DROUGHTS, DUST STORMS IN THE SUMMER, FLOODING RAIN IN THE WINTER, HUMANITY HUDDLED IN ITS REMAINING CITIES AND DYING BY DEGREES WHILE ITS WIZARDS SIT PRETTY. CORMAC HAS SEEN PEOPLE DIE BEFORE HIS EYES, I HAVE SEEN THE PEOPLE OF MY CITY TEETERING ON THE EDGE OF THE COLD WATER, AND EVERY DAY MY PEOPLE DWINDLE. I COULD BE DEAD IF NOT FOR THE MIRACLE OF THAT HOGWARTS INVITATION. ◊◊_`

There was a golden light that shone in the room now, from some source Sparrow could not identify.

`_◊◊ I GREW UP NERVOUS ENOUGH, BEFORE LOSING MY FRIENDS. SINCE THEN I HAVE NEVER NOT BEEN ON EDGE, EVEN IN A FAMILY WHO HAS THE CHANCE TO ENJOY SOME COMFORTS. SO IMAGINE HOW I FELT WHEN I WAS GRANTED ACCESS TO A WORLD WHERE PEOPLE CAN ACTUALLY BE AT EASE. IMAGINE HOW I FELT WHEN I WAS GRANTED A TOOL THAT I COULD USE TO BRING EASE BACK TO MY WORLD. IMAGINE HOW I FELT WHEN I LEARNED THAT THIS WAS FORBIDDEN. I AIM TO HEAL THE PAIN OF MY PEOPLE, I HAVE THE VERY ABILITY AND THE MINISTRY WON’T FUCKING LET ME! ◊◊_`

A room with the windows closed has little opportunity to let any ambient noise fill the silence, save for the sound of wind blowing across the top of the chimney.

In this case, the silence was broken by Professor Longbottom, who chuckled and said, “Easy there, tiger. You look like you’re going to explode any second."

Sparrow finally noticed that the golden glow was coming from her own skin.

She sat down beside Jill and fell over into her lap. Jill rested her arm over Sparrow’s shoulder.

The glow faded.

“For heaven’s sake, child." McGonagall moved back to the gathered children, and stood before Sparrow, bending down to put a hand on her forehead. “I almost think you could give yourself a fever with that fire inside you." She took her hand away. “Thank goodness you are not burning up on a physical basis."

“Have you decided what you want to do with us?" said Violet.

“How can we atone for our transgressions?" said Miranda. “What reward will we suffer for our arrogance?"

McGonagall looked to the two professors.

They both nodded.

“First of all," said McGonagall, “it would be simple and easy enough for me enough to cast memory charms on all of you – "

Cormac’s eyes began to glow orange. “I will not accept a thing under any circumstances whatsoever," he said, in a voice that was harder than any Sparrow had ever heard out of his mouth. “Not after what Sparrow told us. I will not accept the deception and further suffering of any of my friends."

“I must learn how to do that eye trick," said Violet.

“You mustn’t," said Miranda, Jill, and Jocasta in unison.

“AHEM!"

All the children jumped.

“I was going to say, if I hit you all with memory charms it would be the cruelest thing I had ever done. Instead I will be far less harsh than I would have if Sparrow had never discussed her goals with me. And I will be less harsh than I would have if Sir Podmore had not vouched for your valiance, if Professor Longbottom had not vouched for your honor, if Professor Clearwater had not warned me of your uncertain future. This is my decree: I require you to put your money where your mouths are."

The glow from Cormac’s eyes faded. “You are…telling us to do what we wanted to do?"

“If I just let you run wild as you have proposed," said McGonagall, “that would also be cruel, to you as to everyone else."

“What then?"

“Think of it this way. There are so many children who wish to grow up quickly, to jump into the world of adults, to no longer be considered children but taken seriously. And you are of an age that, long and long ago, would have been just a touch earlier than the lower bound on what people thought was a plausible age for beginning one’s adulthood. How old was the Maid of Orleans when she demanded to lead her king’s army against the English?"

“Seventeen," said Violet. “She didn’t come out of it well, as I recall."

“A bold spirit," said Cormac. “Too idealistic to understand the sort of cynical manipulations that would be used to get rid of her."

“Precisely," said McGonagall. “Quite a bit like Sparrow here, I fear."

“She can be perfectly cynical," said Jocasta. “When she puts her mind to it."

“But by default?" said McGonagall. “Clearly not by default. If I forego the use of memory charms then I am tempted to throw you into the meatgrinder of Wizard politics, and see if you or the meatgrinder breaks."

“The what?" said Jocasta. “Is that a muggle thing?"

McGonagall frowned. “Miss Carrow, you had better not be joking."

Jocasta shook her head.

"How on earth do you not know what a meatgrinder is?"

“Because I’ve never heard of it? I didn’t know you could grind meat." `I REALLY DIDN'T.`

“What exactly did you think ground meat was?" said Violet. “Meat from the ground?"

Jocasta looked her dead in the eye and said, “Yes."

“Getting off track! Now, I will not toss you into the political blender – I mean the mixer – I mean the egg beater – Jocasta, what kitchen implements are you familiar with?"

“Never been in a kitchen."

“Never been – "

“Carrow Manor," said Professor Clearwater.

“Oh," said McGonagall. “Right. Where was I? I will not throw you into the political threshing machine – " She shot a glance at Jocasta, whose face was conspicuously blank – “because, for all that I am angry with every one of you, I care about your physical and mental well-being. And Professor Longbottom here has insisted that I avoid throwing too much at you at once. But oh, you all invite the sky to come down on your heads, you flock of Chickens Little. The question is whether you can handle it."

All the children looked at Sparrow.

`_◊◊ I DON’T THINK I CAN HOLD UP THE SKY YET. ◊◊_`

` __ `

“Precisely. The key word is ‘yet’. I will begin by showing you what many adult Wizards do for their world. You have all been shut up in this castle long enough that it is easy to miss what actually goes on. So – It’s time for the Painful Pensive."

` __ `

“The what now?" said Jocasta.

` __ `

McGonagall rose from her chair and strode over to one of the closed display cases. She tapped her wand on the glass and waited for the sound of clicking and whirring to cease. Then she opened the door, and withdrew a wide, shallow silver vessel, covered in swirls of carvings, save for an enamel rim the color of fresh blood. 

` __ `

She set the bowl down on the table. It was filled with a silvery liquid, swirling in lighter and darker shades around each other, never mixing completely. Whatever liquid it was, it didn’t flow or ripple like water.

` __ `

“This is for some of the memories I would retain but do not wish to consider. You will view them with me now. Longbottom – "

` __ `

“Seen ‘em already. And I ought to be preparing for work. Requesting permission to be dismissed."

` __ `

“Granted. I will inform you of what fate I decide for these students. Mrs. Clearwater?"

` __ `

“I, er, need to get to work as well."

` __ `

“Then both of you may go."

` __ `

The professors hurried out of the room.

` __ `

“The rest of you," said McGonagall, “are not to discuss the memories you see herein with anyone outside this room. As you are all in your current situation because of your overwhelming sense of honor, I can trust that you will require no magical bonds of silence. Am I correct?"

` __ `

Everyone nodded.

` __ `

“Then come and stand here."

` __ `

Everyone rose from their seat and stood around the table, peering into the basin.

` __ `

“I will show you my days of tears," said McGonagall.

` __ `

And they all gazed into older years.

` __ `


	25. In which Minerva McGonagall Remembers Some Very bad Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason these memories stay in their own special pensive.

To begin with there was a man in a ploughed field. A man of humble garment, and kind face. The sort of man you would feel terrible for hurting.

Before him stood a tall young woman, hair done up neatly, dress plain and proper. Yet for all she looked like the sort of person who could stand before a classroom and have them fall to silence immediately, she did not look stern here. Her head was bowed, and she stood as if she had a physical weight on her shoulders.

Neither was saying anything, but one looked confused and deeply hurt, and the other…the other had her back to Sparrow, and perhaps, if she did not wish to look into the man’s eyes, she would not wish Sparrow to see her face at all.

"Never mind this memory," said McGonagall. "Skipping ahead now."

The scene dissolved.

…

"2045," said Cormac. "The year of the Great Storm, right?"

"Correct," said McGonagall.

Two adults and six children stood on the shore of the Thames estuary, upon the tidal sands, at a far distance from the outskirts of the city proper. On this day the clouds hung low and dark, like the clouds of the rainy season.

Above the city rose curious structures, monolithic and menacing in the gloom. It took Sparrow a moment to realize that they were the old towers as her mother had described them. How on earth anyone besides Wizards managed to procure that much metal and glass for one tower – it was difficult to contemplate. It seemed like a terrible waste. And there were at least five of them.

Midway between them and the city stood a tall, slender structure, from whose top rose a stream of a dark cloud, as if the structure was trying to add to the ones already overhead.

"Some manner of infernal muggle device," said Jocasta. "What exactly is the point of making all that smoke?"

"It generates electricity," said Sparrow.

"You speak!" said Jocasta. "Perhaps it is permissible within a memory. But what do you mean, the smoke generates electricity?"

"Long story," said Sparrow. "But why are they using these things at all? I thought they stopped after 2040."

"That’s the official account," said Violet. "But do not trust everything you learn in Muggle Studies class."

"Please," said Cormac. "I don’t want to hear your opinion of Professor Shipton again."

"Oh, if it were only him! No, the history textbook is unfortunately a historical distortion as well. It only picks the more optimistic muggle news reports to create its narrative. Talking of which, Headmistress – "

McGonagall gave Violet a look that indicated she would not be accepting any requests from anyone today.

"Never mind," said Violet. Her posture shrank as if she wished to disappear.

"So what’s here?" said Jill. "Besides a flat lot of sand. What’s the point of being here?"

"The sand is the point," said McGonagall. "I wanted you children to see this tidal flat in the last few minutes before it was lost beneath the water."

"Storm’s coming on fast," said Cormac.

"Perilous place to stand," said Miranda.

"For anyone solid," said Jocasta. "Thank goodness we aren’t getting wet sand all over our shoes."

The rain began to fall.

"Now," said McGgonagall, "As the rainfall gets heavier, I would like you to direct your attention to the marshes."

The rain began to pelt, then to sheet. Sparrow turned to the shore, peering through the blinding rain at the shore, where the mud and marsh grass was still barely visible. She was not sure what she ought to be looking for. Some birds, perhaps? And yet they would have been invisible in this downpour –

So what, exactly, were those voids in the rain? And why were they coming closer?

Sparrow realized with a start that they were shaped like humans. And yet they were not ghosts – quite the opposite, it seemed. Coporeal and invisible, rather than visible and incorporeal. What on earth were they?

"You will notice," said McGonagall, "that one of the shapes there looks a fair bit taller than the others. That is me. I refused to give up my favorite hat for the occasion."

The figures passed by and then took off running straight over the open water.

"Seems less efficient than a broom," said Cormac

"And safer," said Violet. "Invisibility charms were still experimental at this point. Wouldn’t want to mix that with broom enchantments. So where are they going, then?"

"I don’t know," said Cormac, "but we ought to follow. The water is rising."

Indeed, it was already well above their knees, and beginning to roil with wind-driven waves.

"We will stay here," said McGonagall. "Just to illustrate something in particular."

The water was now above their waists. Now their necks, and now their heads. Until there was nothing to see but swirling darkness – and within it, the ghostly shapes of the Wizards, glowing faintly amidst the gloom. One of them a faint white, one a golden orange, one a bright purple, one of firey red, one of icy blue, and one of a bright green, a curious green that Sparrow could not place.

"Think about how much water there must be," said McGonagall, "to rise this high above a tidal flat. Now you see why London sits in its current position. Come on then."

The scene dissolved, and resolved into the same rainstorm as before. Only they stood on a different shore, not a shore of mud or sand but – asphalt. And around them stood small ramshackle houses amidst a few large decrepit ones.

"Honestly," said McGonagall, "these people should all have moved into London by now. But some things are hard to give up."

Through the blinding rain Sparrow thought she could see low shapes in the water offshore. Flat, broad, rising gently like rooftops, but at the water’s surface. Well. That’s probably exactly what they were.

"Looks like they learned the hard way," said Jocasta.

"They didn’t know," said Violet. "They should have known but they couldn’t. They were used to relying on detailed weather reports, many of them, and those were gone. Didn’t know how to read the signs for a hurricane, didn’t expect it. But, here they are."

"And there they go," said Jocasta, jerking a thumb behind her.

Sparrow turned. There were many figures running away from the water’s edge now. Many doors opening, groups of people pouring out and making for whatever high ground they could find – not that it was much, around here. They might have to run a while.

And within the pelting rain there were the invisible figures once more, each of them outlined as voids in the rain, and yet, if Sparrow squinted at them, she thought she could see their outlines faintly glowing white. Or maybe it was a trick of the rain as it bounced off them. Whatever it was, the figures were posed in the stance of someone pushing a heavy load forward. Or holding it back, as the case might be.

"I think the water will keep rising," said Miranda. "This ground doesn’t rise nearly high enough to stop the flood, not with this rainstorm still on."

"Indeed not," said McGonagall. "But we had to hold the water here as best we could, in order to give this village enough time to escape. Letting it rise just inch by inch, instead of foot by foot, hoping we could hold out."

"You couldn’t have just held it in place and then let it go once the muggles were all safe?"

"Oh," said McGonagall, "I think you’ll see why that was a foolish idea. Observe the invisible figures."

The figures were retreating at a slow and steady pace. But then one of them stumbled backward, and fell, and the water pressed just a bit closer. Then another fell, and another, and the remainder were forced backward by the suddenly rising waves.

"Let us move to a different location," said McGongagall.

The scene dissolved. When it resolved Sparrow could see no houses through the rain. Just a tidal flat where the water was creeping steadily forward. And dark figures marching away from it, perhaps hoping to get away in time. There was a low ridge in the far distance. If they could reach it, perhaps it would buy them more time, or even stop the water completely.

Suddenly the crowd was outpacing the waves, and Sparrow could see why – for there were many, many human-shaped voids in the rain, standing between the crowd and the waves, and where they stood the water could go no further. Yet the water was building, higher and higher, as against an unseen barrier, and the crowd was taking its time, now, under the impression that they were safe. Some of them even stood there, as if wishing to observe this miracle.

Then one of the invisible people stumbled and fell, and another beside them collapsed, and a third, and a fourth, and the water broke through whatever barrier held it, and swept through the invisible people, and straight towards the crowd, who, having turned to watch the spectacle, now had to turn again and run, and not a few failed to make it, and fell beneath the waves.

"Skip ahead a bit," said McGonagall.

The scene dissolved, and reformed to show the same place, yet with a clear blue sky.

Sparrow was finally able to see the whole scene. The water stretched over the tidal flat, where they had once stood, and out to the horizon. She turned, and saw the crowd, standing atop the ridge.

McGonagall was gazing out over the water, a faraway look in her eyes. "That was the worst day for the Department of Catastrophes," she said. "A total of ninety-seven Wizard casualties, three from my team and fifty from the group you saw operating here, and the remainder from teams handling other muggle villages along shore. Twenty in Canvey, as I recall. As for here…we hadn’t exactly coordinated methods with each other, or I thought we had but maybe Borodin heard something different than what I was saying. Nor was it possible to use the two-way mirrors amidst that awful rain. So, Borodin led his team using his idea of how to handle the water, and paid for it with his life, along with that of many muggles. Most of the casualties came from teams who followed Borodin’s method."

"A heroic fool," said Jocasta.

"How many muggles died?" said Miranda.

"Casualty estimates for the Great Storm are uncertain at best," said Violet. "Many of the birth records of such people were stored in coastal communities that flooded, as well as the flooded areas of London. And as for death records, well, there was hardly time for that when all the bodies needed burying. Low estimate is close to a million, from the Firth of Forth down to the Thames."

"I meant among the people the Wizards were trying to save."

"Even less certain."

"The answer is far too many," said McGonagall. "Although one could argue that it was because we weren’t trying. Next scene."

…

The next scene was in a windowless office, where sat a fancy desk amid sumptuous wooden furniture. A fairly spacious room, compared to what Sparrow was used to, spacious enough to fit an entire conference table.

There was a middle-aged man at a desk, writing on a scroll of parchment, and there was an elderly woman standing before the desk, towering over the man in a very familiar manner.

"If we had just been allowed to pick them up and carry them," said the slightly younger McGonagall, "we would have been able to get ourselves in place to slow the flooding in London well before so many people were drowned."

"And then what?" said the man. "Obliviate the lot of them? You have made your opinion of that business abundantly clear to poor old Pickering."

"There is a significant difference in letting people be confused about why they got where they were versus confusing them about why their loved ones died! And think about how many brave young Wizards died because you wanted our rescue efforts to be subtle in the middle of a natural disaster!"

"I have thought about it," said the man, putting down his quill and interlacing his fingers, looking at the younger McGonagall with a studiously polite expression. "I have, indeed, considered that matter. I have not stopped considering that matter. I do not expect I will stop within the next few decades. With that in mind, I think our discussion is over. Please leave my office."

The younger McGonagall whirled around and marched out of the room.

The man picked up his pen and continued writing.

"I continued to aid the Department of Catastrophes when they called upon me," said McGonagall. "But I never initiated any further contact with them."

"Hang on," said Violet. "I thought it was called the department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes?"

"Once upon a time," said McGonagall. "Next scene."

…

The day was bright, the sky was blue, the ground was cracked and barren. The city was not London, for its outskirts stood much closer to its center. But whatever towers it had were half-dismantled by now.

"Looks like Derby," said Cormac. "First of the dust storms?"

"Nottingham," said McGonagall. "Second of the storms. The first one, well, hard to save anyone from it when you don’t know it will happen! So we were far more strenuous about our efforts on the second round, and far more open. Watch now."

The wind began to blow hard, and on the horizon a cloud of dust approached. Within a few minutes it had reached the gathered Wizards –

But then, from some invisible source, came the cry of "VENTUS!"

And the dust stopped moving forward. It drifted to the left, as if caught by a different vortex of wind. As Sparrow followed its path, she could see it flow around the city, and then away, blown by the very wind that had brought it in the first place – and yet there was so much of it that it kept coming, on and on.

"I won’t bore you with the details of this one," said McGonagall. "Let’s just say it was my idea, and young Wooster should not have been placed alone at the end of the relay, because he hadn’t the strength to handle it by himself. He got a lungful of dust and barely survived. And then we had to wipe the memories of everyone in the city. That was the point where I gave up leading the task forces. Couldn’t handle what had to be done. Next scene."

…

A bright day, a blue sky, a dark tunnel into the barren hill. Two of them, in fact. Vast and perfectly circular. Three of them, in fact, though the third was offset up the hill and smaller.

"Muggles used to build such extraordinary things," said Violet. "And brought us this world as a result."

"Could have done it without doing that," said Cormac. "But maybe they wanted quick results."

"What exactly are we looking at?" said Jocasta.

"Chunnel," said Cormac.

"Excuse me?"

"Channel Tunnel."

"Okay…and what exactly are we doing here?"

Suddenly all three entrances to the tunnel were blocked by a field of translucent glowing yellow. Before them stood an elderly woman in a tall pointed hat.

"Observing an experimental charm being tested in the field," said McGonagall. "Significant improvement on the old shield charm, if it worked. And what better way to test it than now? Well, the answer is ‘in safe conditions’ but it hadn’t been field-tested yet, so that was my job. Much easier task than having to be on the English end of this thing. Not exactly worth risking the Headmistress of Hogwarts in this effort, especially at my age."

"Hang on," said Jocasta. "What exactly do you mean by ‘English end’? Are we not in England?"

"We’re in France," said Cormac. "I told you. Channel Tunnel."

"Oh," said Jocasta. "I see. Wait, how on earth – "

"Always been more muggles than Wizards," said Jill. She nudged Sparrow. "Unless the madgirl here gets her way, eh?"

"I daresay we could have used more Wizards on this day," said McGonagall. "We should have used more. We should have used everyone we could. But, we thought that having Rodolphus Carrow involved would equal twenty strong Wizards. And there’s only so many people you can fit in that tunnel anyway. And if a mistake is made…well, the strike force made a few stumbles and lost the element of surprise, so Rodolphus wound up having to hold the damn beast off mostly by himself while the survivors collapsed the tunnel behind him. We’re still not sure how he made it out of there alive."

"Oh," said Jocasta. "Now I know what this is about. Father brings this up whenever he has a chance to boast. But you said ‘beast’ in the singular. He says there were two."

"Unfortunately," said McGonagall, "He is correct. He only fought off one. The second – well, observe the slightly younger me."

The woman in the pointed hat was now doubled over and retching. The shields had vanished.

"What’s happening to her?" said Cormac. "I don’t see anything."

"You usually don’t," said Jocasta. "You smell it first. If you’re lucky you survive the smell. At that point, if you’re smart, and you can still move, you run. There are not many people who actually have the chance to see the Nundu with their own eyes. In this case, the hunting party was extremely lucky that the creature was in a known and narrowly limited location, such that it was possible to prepare the assault well ahead of time."

"Nundu," said Jill.

"Yep."

"Two of them?"

"We thought there was one," said McGonagall. "But their poisonous breath doesn’t carry as far as the Channel Tunnel goes. This was the second one. I had been placed in what everyone had thought was a safe location, simply to block the tunnel entrance from a vanishing chance of escaping fumes. We learned the hard way that it was not a safe position, and that this magical shield is permeable to air. And that anyone involved in the assault, no matter how distant, should be wearing gas masks, whether Wizard or Muggle. I daresay Muggles have the advantage there, for having less opportunity to be reckless."

Suddenly a fierce wind picked up, blowing towards the tunnel.

Sparrow turned, wondering where the wind had come from.

There on a hilltop stood a lone woman, wand aloft. And behind her rose a hundred Wizards on brooms, flying towards the tunnel. Three swooped down to pick up the one splayed on the ground, while the rest circled high overhead.

"No more scene to be had here," said McGonagall. "They got me away in time and that was that. I like to think young Alianora Carrow saved my life, for rounding up enough Wizards on this side of the tunnel to cover the mistakes of the other strike force. And these chaps only lost a few people, versus fifty on the English side."

"Still foolish," said Miranda. "They should have collapsed the tunnel at both ends."

"Perhaps both strike forces wanted to be heroic," said McGonagall. "Or perhaps Rodolphus did, and his wife decided that, if he was in there, it didn’t make sense to block his escape. So, a few lives traded for her husband." The scene grew darker. "Perhaps that is how it goes."

Soon there was nothing around but darkness.

"No more terrible memories?" said Cormac.

"I didn’t say that."

…

A grey day of misty rain, on a rooftop above the rest of a small city huddled within walls.

Ten Wizards stood and watched the sky, as if waiting.

A dragon burst out of the clouds straight towards them.

"Only lost one that day," said McGonagall. "Next."

…

A day of rain and wind, at the bottom of a muddy hill, where a shallow valley ran down to a small city. There stood two hundred Wizards, breathing heavily and leaning on each other in support. A handful of Wizards had gathered around one.

And the one they gathered around was laid out on the ground before them, face muddy, eyes open and unblinking.

"Shouldn’t have let him go alone," said McGonagall. "One of my greater regrets, along with letting Dumbledore leave young Harry Potter with people who despised him. Both times I let someone suffer for being alone. But this time it was my job to make sure that didn’t happen. Too busy stopping the floodwaters, I keep saying, as if that was an excuse. Next scene."

…

A day of little wind and bright sunlight, on a nameless dock at a nameless shore.

There were a few mermaids in the water, in conversation with a few Wizards on the dock, one of whom was McGonagall. The mermaids scowled and vanished beneath the water, and did not return.

"Not quite as bad as the other memories," said McGonagall. "But it was a terrible job of negotiation on my part, when we very much needed their support. Keep that in mind, Sparrow. And keep in mind that if you do seek the consensus of the world, that means all the world. Next scene."

…

A corridor with bare pipes running along the walls, lit dimly by sunlight at one end and a glowing shield at the other.

"One of our number who went in took sick later," said McGonagall. "Had a devil of a time treating his case of cancer. Apparently the shield spell doesn’t protect against nuclear radiation either. Keep that in mind as well. Next scene."

…

A forest of blackened stumps of trees, twlilight coming on fast. At a stone table stood a hooded figure, with three skeletons standing to attention.

Suddenly there were twelve Wizards surrounding him, wands pointed at his throat.

"One of the students I couldn’t save from themselves," said McGonagall. "Next scene."

Twenty Wizards stood upon a barren hilltop beneath a full summer moon.

Were it not for the moonlight they might have missed the beings drifting down the road. The convoy far ahead of these beings had not yet noticed them, nor, indeed, could they have noticed at all, for the convoy was of muggles and the beings were of dark swirling cloaks. More than twenty. More than forty. More than sixty. Damn near as many of those things as there were muggles in the caravan.

Sparrow began to feel uneasy. As the creatures drew closer to the convoy the feeling increased into sheer dread.

How on earth could that be, if this was but a memory?

As one the Twenty Wizards drew their wands and cried, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

And the moonlight was rivaled by twenty patronuses charging down the hill.

The cloaks scattered and fled, disappearing over the plain into the night.

Dread vanished along with them.

"Not that I would ever expect you to seek the consensus of these particular beings," said McGonagall. "Nor do I think they could possibly deserve to have an input, nor would such an input be anything other than the desire to remain hidden from muggles for the sake of ambushing them."

"So why this day?" said Jocasta. "What do you regret here?"

"The existence of these creatures," said McGonagall. "I believe they arise from despair. Certainly there are more of them than ever before."

"Seems a shame you would have had to Obliviate all the muggles here," said Miranda.

"What a loss for anyone who suffers such a charm," said Cormac. "Just imagine being a child – "

"I don’t have to imagine," said Jocasta.

" – a muggle child, I mean. And seeing a creature made of moonlight galloping across the plain. What a pity to have such a memory stolen."

"And that is why I have placed this memory here," said McGonagall. "For what I was forced to do. And with that, I have shown you everything I wish. Let us return to the waking world."

...

Six children and one adult stood around a table.

"You see what we deal with," said McGonagall.

`_◊◊ ALL ALONE? ◊◊_`

"Effectively," said Violet. "That was the theme I was getting from all this. A high casualty rate due to an insistence on secrecy."

"And the other theme?" said McGonagall.

`_◊◊ THAT YOU TRY TO DEAL WITH ALL CATASTROPHES NOW. NOT JUST WIZARD ONES. ◊◊_`

"Precisely. We are not indolent, Miss Jones, not neglectful nor callous."

`_◊◊ YOU TRY TO HOLD UP THE SKY ALL ALONE. ◊◊_`

"And suffer for it," said Miranda. "And die for it, and dwindle."

"And keep at it," said Jill, "as long as the world is in shambles." She turned to Sparrow. "I am beginning to understand where you are coming from, my dear friend. If Wizards were willing to heal the world, they would no longer be forced to put themselves on the line for such emergencies."

"And yet," said Miranda, "there is the Nundu. And all manner of magical catastrophes. Can’t handle those better just for having more grass around."

`_◊◊ OH, CAN WE NOT? THINK OF HOW MANY MORE WIZARDS YOU COULD DEVOTE TO AN EMERGENCY IF THERE WEREN’T FIVE HUNDRED HAPPENING AT ONCE. WE WOULD CERTAINLY HAVE MORE WIZARDS AROUND IF THEIR LIVES WEREN’T BEING SPENT ONE BY ONE ON THIS BUSINESS! ◊◊_`

"We could just be lazy prats," said Jocasta. "Shut ourselves up, never help anybody at all. I’m surprised, really. I thought we were isolated."

"Your household is isolated," said Cormac.

"Your mother’s household is isolated," said Jocasta.

"I though I made it clear that wasn’t the case – "

`_◊◊ WE CAN’T SHUT OURSELVES UP. WE CAN’T EVEN BE AS ISOLATED AS WE HAVE BEEN. THE STATUTE OF SECRECY IS TURNING INTO A RECIPE FOR DISASTER. WE WILL HAVE TO VIOLATE IT FOR THE SAKE OF THE GREEN GRASS IF NOTHING ELSE. ◊◊_`

"Oh," said McGonagall. "You’ve made your decision already, have you."

`_◊◊ ONLY FOR THE GREEN GRASS. YOU SAID DEMENTORS ARISE FROM GREAT DESPAIR. IS THIS CORRECT? ◊◊_`

"It is possible," said Violet. "Dementors are said to arise where there is great decay, though any certainty about such creatures would require closer study, which is a flat ‘no’ from me thank you very much."

"And a stubborn refusal from them as well," said Cormac.

`_◊◊ AND THERE IS A GREAT DEAL MORE DECAY AND DESPAIR IN THE WORLD THAN BEFORE. IF ALL THAT GIVES RISE TO DEMENTORS, THEN WE’RE IN FAR MORE TROUBLE THAN I REALIZED, AND WE HAVE FAR LESS TIME. ◊◊_`

"And you think a simple reveal of magic would help with that?" said McGonagall. "For all you know, you could invoke so much terror and despair at once that all the world is filled with Dementors."

`_◊◊ THANK GOODNESS WE’RE TRYING TO DO THIS DELICATELY, EH? ◊◊_`

McGonagall sighed. "If you're very careful there’s a chance your efforts won’t blow up in your faces."

`_◊◊ AND DEMENTORS DON'T FEED ON ANIMALS. ◊◊_`

"That was the shield Sirius Black held," said Cormac.

`_◊◊ AND I WILL TAKE A WILD GUESS AND SAY THAT LETHIFOLDS AREN’T INTERESTED IN ANIMALS EITHER. ◊◊_`

"That’s a bit more of a gamble," said Jocasta. "They’ve got to eat something when they can’t get humans. Although they certainly wouldn’t be interested in a tiny little housefly. Ah ha, I see where you’re going with this."

"As do I," said McGonagall, "and now I regret the fact that I have made you all even more hasty. And yet. I haven’t shown you half of the things Wizards defend against. So much that Muggles do not know about. You are correct, Sparrow, we do hold up the sky. I have known this for too long. I have chafed against the Statute of Secrecy for most of my years alive. If I die without being able to do anything about it I will chafe against it for all the eternity I am dead."

`_◊◊ DOES THAT MEAN YOU WILL HELP US? ◊◊_`

"I was not finished speaking."

"Uh oh," muttered Cormac.

"This is where I lower the boom. I am the Headmistress of Hogwarts, children. I am the leader of one of Wizarding Britain’s key institutions, the location and source of the majority of primary magical education in this land, and in many lands. I have a duty of care to this institution, to the students within as students and as children, to the teachers within as teachers and as adults. I have a duty of fairness to all, and I cannot allow favoritism or the granting of any sort of unearned privileges. Therefore you must earn them, and suffer just punishment for your transgressions, transgressions that have taken you well beyond mere matters of house points. You are hereby suspended from your classes for the remainder of the school year."

All the children gasped.

"In place of your classes, whose curriculum you appear to be outpacing, each of you will tutor the remainder in your primary area of expertise. You will each take the O.W.L.s at the end of this year – "

The children gasped again.

" – and receive top marks in each subject."

"What happens if we don’t?" said Cormac.

"If you don’t," said McGonagall, "I will not believe that you are yet capable of surviving the path you have set for yourselves. I will require you to remain at this castle until such time as you have satisfied my requirements for that level of Wizardry. But I believe this will not be necessary. Each one of you is a promising young Wizard in your own field. So, once you pass the O.W.L.s, you will then choose your courses of N.E.W.T. study – "

"Sixth-level Wizardry in the fifth year," said Jocasta. "Wonderful."

"We’re already accelerating," said Cormac. "Or did you want to pass the O.W.L.s and then spend fifth year twiddling your thumbs?"

"AHEM!"

Everyone jumped.

"You will pass your N.E.W.T.s with top marks, and then, and only then, will I believe you are ready to take on the entire world. But I imagine some of you will have little trouble with those as well. Jocasta in particular achieved a level of Transfiguration skill that most Wizards dare not attempt, at a younger age than anyone thought possible, which is, I will admit, putting a positive spin on something that I will slap Rodolphus for when I get the chance."

`_• GIVE HIM ONE FROM ME AS WELL. •_`

"Mind how you disrespect your elders in front of an elder. Now as for Miranda – "

Miranda stood at attention.

" – who appears to be attempting to accelerate past the N.E.W.T. level and straight into professional work, I will require you to work closely with Professors Longbottom and Slughorn on all of your experiments. For your N.E.W.T. course of study I recommend that you attempt this theoretical Lycanthropy cure, and begin now, in case it takes more time than you expected. If you choose that course I will grade you on effort as much as results. I do not expect a breakthrough in such a subject, especially not within the space of a mere few years."

Miranda shot a glance at Sparrow.

`_°°° THANKS FOR GETTING ME INTO TROUBLE. °°°_`

`_◊◊ IS THAT A SARCASTIC THANKS? ◊◊_`

`_°°° I’LL SAY IT ANOTHER WAY. YOU GET ME INTO THE BEST KINDS OF TROUBLE. °°°_`

`_◊◊ SUCH IS THE COURSE OF MY LIFE, IT SEEMS. ◊◊_`

"As for me," said McGonagall, "I will be busy, and more busy than normal, considering London’s apparent Lethifold problem. I will aid you in the business of transfiguration whenever I can, though we must only speak of it in this room. For all other issues, you will have Professor Longbottom, as you will be reporting to him on a weekly basis. I will recommend that you seek his counsel when you can, considering your griefs, and his concern for them. And Jocasta – "

"Yes?"

"You are correct. The cat is out of the bag. I have sent a letter to Mr. Fletcher instructing him to cease his erasure of your name from the registry."

"Oh, er – I had hoped to remain ambiguous for a little while longer."

"The Ministry doesn’t do ambiguous when it comes to Animagi. The most you can hope for is that my letter reached them before anyone at the Ministry got wind of your story, and that they seek to monitor you instead of breaking your wand. If you’re lucky you will only be required to report your activities to them on a monthly basis."

"Which I don’t want to be doing."

"I didn’t say you had to be honest in your report." She gave Jocasta pointed look. "That is the one concession I will make to duplicity this day."

"Then we have our tasks set before us," said Jill. "And we should be getting to class – no wait. Damn it. I need to get used to this."

"Breakfast," said Jocasta. "We need to see if there’s anything left."

"Ahem," said McGonagall.

"Oh! Permission to be dismissed?"

"Granted. Go to your work, children, and make me proud. Or at least don’t blow yourselves up."

Six children scurried out of the office.

…

The great hall was a wide and empty expanse, for the tables had all been set aside.

"Pity," said Jill.

"Hungry," said Jocasta.

"Lucky I’m here," said Professor Longbottom.

The children turned. There stood the Professor, between them and the doorway, holding a tray of bagels.

Jocasta snatched a bagel off the tray and tore into it.

"Well well well," said Miranda. "You are also a lifesaver." She grabbed two bagels from the tray. Violet and Jill each took one, leaving a few on the tray for Sparrow and Cormac, who took none.

"Breakfast was ending when I left the office," said the Professor. "When I went to beg the kitchen staff for leftovers I figured I ought to get some for you kids as well. Cormac, you’re not interested in bagels?"

"Bread always turns my stomach," said Cormac.

"Pity," said Jocasta, through a mouthful of bagel. "You’d think a healer could fix that."

Miranda’s eyes flashed blue.

"What? What did I say this time?"

Miranda shook her head. "Nothing. Never mind. I’ve no place to object to such a statement or make decisions for Cormac."

"Bet you could come up with something for him."

"Standing right here," said Cormac.

"I am not getting involved in yet another cure. I already have enough on my plate and so does Professor Longbottom – thank you by the way Professor for this particular plate – and we all have to attend to our tasks. I don’t even know where to begin. I’m tempted to just run to my greenhouse and bury myself in herbology."

"Tempting for me as well," said the Professor. "Considering how sheepish I have felt over the past week. But, I am assuming that McGonagall will be having you report to me, so I can’t keep my head in the soil for too long, can I? And I can’t be spending any more time now. For now, I recommend you all take a day to recover and decide how you want to get your studies going. Good luck." He beetled out the door.

"Great," said Cormac. "I’m starving and I have no idea what to do."

"I’d recommend you hit the kitchens with Sparrow," said Jocasta. "They’re probably holding on to some porridge for her anyway."

"No, I mean in terms of this…tutoring thing. You’re all good at specific stuff and I’m not."

`_◊◊ DO NOT DOUBT YOURSELF SO QUICKLY, MY DEAR CORMAC. YOU KNOW WANDS BETTER THAN ANY OF US. ◊◊_`

"Yeah but…" Cormac sighed. "None of that’s on the O.W.L.s."

"You and Violet are better at charms than I am," said Jill. "Start there, I guess."

"Or work backwards from the wandlore," said Violet. "Wandlore is the intersection of charms, herbology and the care of magical creatures."

`_◊◊ PERFECT WHATEVER YOU CAN, TEACH THE REST. ◊◊_`

"That will be something of a challenge for me," said Miranda. "Neither plants nor animals grow so quickly that we have much chance to practice with them like we can practice charms."

"Potions," said Violet. "Plenty of time for that."

`_◊◊ WE HAVE PLENTY OF TIME FOR EVERYTHING. LET US REST FOR TODAY. ◊◊_`

The children departed the great hall, thoughts of the future racing ahead of them.


	26. Help me Out, Will You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparrow and her friends must adjust to the new shape of their lives, and Sparrow wishes to be as helpful as possible.

The ensuing week was trying for each of the children.

To begin with, there was the abrupt lack of strict scheduling, for six children who had lived a great proportion of their meager years according to a schedule. It was difficult to know what to do on any given day, at any given moment, without having a set list of places to be, and difficult to think of how the day ought to go.

Some of the children threw themselves into the courses of study they were most comfortable with already. Violet tended to stick to the library and bury her head in books of Wizarding history. Miranda tended to stick to her greenhouse and bury her head in pots of wondrous plants. Cormac tended to stick to the library and bury his head in books of wandlore, usually in Violet’s company.

Jill and Jocasta tended to throw themselves into each other, which was, to Sparrow, entirely understandable considering that they had nearly lost each other just short days ago. That it caused Sparrow to be bereft of kissing practice was of only slight concern. Yes, only slight concern. Of greater concern was that it caused both of them to be distracted from their efforts to perfect spells in their areas of expertise. As well as slightly annoyed when Sparrow pointed that out. Jocasta pointed out that, as she was spending just as much time in Miranda’s greenhouse as with Jill, she was at least getting a good start on herbology, thank you very much.

Fair enough.

For Sparrow, her greatest concern what that, with the loss of her schedule, she had lost certain personal connections arising from that schedule. Three-quarters of the student body were technically not allowed to enter her common room, not that they would have all fit in any case. So the majority of times she interacted with them, be it Percival Bulstrode or Melodious Figgle or Catarina Fletcher, was in her classes, or in the hallways if it involved a shield spell. And one of those options was currently curtailed out of courtesy, and the other had ceased. So the only students Sparrow could be sure to interact on a regular basis were those of her own house.

Sparrow felt she had been thrown together with the five people she knew best, and though she felt they were the best people she could know, they were not, and could not be, the only people in her life. She had said she loved her fellow students, and in that speech she had meant it – yet now that they were at a remove from her, present but less approachable, she felt her connection to them turning from appreciation to attachment. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so goes the saying, and Sparrow had cause to wonder if it was just a nice way of describing withdrawal symptoms. Sparrow found herself getting much more chummy with anyone she met. Perhaps she was attempting to make up for lost time.

Not that this was easy, for at first the most she could manage was a handshake and a smile, and perhaps a hastily-scrawled note if both parties had time, which they did not always have. Then again, maybe it was best if she didn’t stick around too much. She didn’t want to answer too many questions about why in heaven’s name she had been suspended from her classes, nor precisely what she was doing now. Hopefully her reputation as someone slightly cracked would let them fill in most of the blanks with their own ideas. And such a reputation was well-supported by the fact that the poor girl still couldn’t say a word to them, dear dear, what could the matter be? Was their great protector suffering a mysterious ailment? Would she still be able to cast the Shield Spell? The answer was yes, the one time someone tried a dung bomb. They didn’t try twice.

The fact that many students heard brief words from nowhere when she was around only added to their confusion. Well, Sparrow was trying to do the mental-message thing with them, and it just wasn’t working properly. She couldn’t figure out why.

As for her personal connections to the teachers, writing notes to them was much easier because they did not have to rush. Unfortunately, being able to speak to them now felt rather awkward. If she had been in classes, she could simply ask to speak for a few minutes after class. But now that she was not, she would have to wait outside their classrooms for an opportunity, which, considering Sparrow’s reputation as someone slightly cracked, was even less of a dignified situation than usual.

So, if she wished, she could consult them in their offices, but then, if she was currently not part of their classes, would she feel welcome? Many was the moment she hesitated outside their offices, hiding just out of their view, wondering if they would wish to speak with her, and, for the most part, deciding against it. Save for the one evening where she mustered her courage, marched into the office of Professor Budge, saw him look up from his paperwork with an air of surprise, and – slap a note down on his desk and march right out of the room.

He had to know she was continuing to attempt non-verbal spells but Sparrow certainly did not feel like answering questions.

There were two teachers she could communicate with, without as much anxiety, and perhaps she should have consulted both of them. But the one she wanted to give some space, beyond scheduled meeting times, and the other…might find a request for divination too much to bear, at the moment.

Sparrow could also communicate with her parents. She could. All she had to do was write a letter and send it home. But that would involve explaining what had happened, without sounding like she was blaming them for their advice, or throwing herself immediately into peril. Evening efforts to write in a delicately diplomatic manner resulted in an entire foot of parchment covered in first lines crossed out. She was not certain that it was even worth saying anything more than that she was doing fine. But, considering all that had occurred, to leave it at that would be a monumental lie.

Violet’s advice to stick entirely to fact felt insufficient. There were more than facts in play and there was the shame of not having told her parents what sort of peril she would be attempting. How would it be possible to reassure them that she would be alright? Jill said they knew what kind of shield she could make, and they knew about her ambition already, so the rest was details.

Still didn’t feel right.

Between the silence towards her peers and the silence towards her elders, Sparrow found herself clinging to Violet’s company as much as she clung to Jill, on occasion dragging Jill into the library with her. Violet knew all the answers, or would know eventually. That was reassuring in its own way, and as Cormac was usually with Violet and as Jocasta was usually with Jill, that brought four of five friends together, which was just as well, because everyone felt a little awkward wandering the halls outside of class times. It was not as though it was easy to explain to the portraits what had occurred. It was much easier for Sparrow to focus on her studies with friends around. It was also easier for Violet, at least once she insisted on a respectful degree of quiet.

Unfortunately, the most Violet could answer Sparrow’s primary question, in this first week, was to promise that she would find the truth eventually.

Such a pledge to find the answer eventually did not help Sparrow now, alas. She was desperate to communicate with her fellow students, more than ever, and communication by note was fairly clunky. On occasion she tried to write in the air with the aid of the sparkler-wand spell, which would have looked more elegant if she had ever truly mastered the cursive script. Many of the students who had it down perfectly were amused by her efforts.

Save for one poor first-year, by the name of Ignotius Nott, who, upon the midmorning of Thursday, beheld the bright words hanging before him with a curious look, of the sort that a student has when they are desperately maintaining a blank face to avoid revealing that they know less than they were instructed to know by today’s lesson. Sparrow had put on such a face many times in her Transfiguration class.

Sparrow dismissed the letters with a wave of her wand and brought out a roll of parchment from her pocket. Upon seeing a pencil in Sparrow’s hand, the expression on Ignotius’ face changed from barely-concealed shame to barely-concealed terror. He fled, leaving Sparrow to wonder what on earth she had done wrong.

It was only on the next day about noon that she met the lad again, in the third-floor corridor just before the room of the reflecting pool, whispering to a couple of his fellow first-years. A Ravenclaw girl named Belladonna Yamakeg, and a Gryffindor named Johnny Sebastiano.

Sparrow could not catch what they were saying, but Belladonna noticed Sparrow, whispered more urgently and seemed to be gesturing to Ignotius that he should go and speak to the older girl.

Ignotius would not budge. He had to be dragged towards Sparrow. By both arms.

Johnny on his left arm said, “Begging your pardon, miss, but we wanted to explain what’s going on here. Well, Ignotius did, and then he got cold feet, so maybe I should tell – ”

Sparrow shook her head, and put her finger to her lips.

“But Iggy here wanted you to know!”

“I think she means she can’t speak,” said Belladonna.

Sparrow took her parchment and pen out of her pocket, and wrote upon it, If Ignotius wishes to reveal his embarrassing problem, he must do it himself. You must not force him.

She handed the note to Johnny, who read it and whispered to Ignotius. Ignotius shook his head.

“Please, miss. You’re putting too much on him here. And he told us we could tell. The trouble is that Iggy here can’t read.”

Sparrow blinked, her face blank in utter confusion.

“We’ve been covering for his essays all year but none of us have had the time to actually teach him – and we heard you got kicked out of all your classes for some reason, so we thought you would have more time – um – well maybe that sounds a bit weird – ”

“Please,” said Belladonna. “He needs some actual teaching and none of us want to speak to any of the teachers.”

Sparrow took her parchment back and scribbled upon it, Did you consider asking Hagrid?

“He’s kind of scary.”

Scribble scribble scribble. _What about one of the ghosts?_

“They gossip.”

Scribble scribble. _Well you know I can’t keep my mouth shut, right? Good old Sparrow Jones yammering her wild ideas to the whole world._

“You’re keeping your mouth shut all the time now.”

Scribble scribble scribble scribble. _Which means I’d have a devil of a time teaching anyone to read, eh? But it sounds as though you trust me._

“You’re the mistress of the shield,” said Johnny. “And you’re nicer than you used to be. Um. Except for that dueling thing where you made your own girlfriend break her wrist. That was weird.”

Scribble scribble scribble scribble. _Personal business. Foolish anger. Upon my honor I would only do such a thing again to save a life. My apologies if I scared you. As for Iggy here, I can help, but – only to refer him to someone who can speak, and who would likely enjoy imparting her own knowledge upon another._

“Um – ”

Scribble scribble. _If Ignotius is willing to reveal this business to just one more person._

Johnny whispered in his ear. Ignotius considered for a few seconds, then nodded. “She had better be able to keep a secret,” he said.

Sparrow nodded.

“How are you sure?”

Scribble scribble. _Let’s say we all have our personal business, and leave it at that._

Johnny read the note and said, “Who is this person – ”

scribble. _Violet Brown._

“Ohhhhhhh. Library girl. Alright.”

“Who?” said Ignotius.

“Library girl. Always in the library? Ring any bells?”

“I’m never in the library, dummy.”

“Always wears lavender from top to bottom?”

“Oh, that girl. She seems kind of stand-offish. Snippy.”

“Worse than Professor Warbeck?” said Belladonna.

“Probably not. Alright. You introduce me to Violet Brown, and we’ll just have an Unbreakable Vow to make sure she keeps her mouth shut.”

Scribble scribble. _How on earth did you learn how to cast that one?_

“He’s a dab hand with the wand,” said Belladonna. “Long story. Can I tell – no? Fine. Long story. Leave it at that. You just tell Violet that young master Nott here is coming her way and why – ”

“I’ll tell her why myself,” said Iggy. “Thank you very much. I’m not over yesterday’s awkwardness.”

`_◊◊ AND FOR THAT I AM SORRY. ◊◊_`

Ignotius stumbled backwards in startlement. “Who on earth is – ”

Sparrow pointed to herself.

“You do speak.”

“What are you hearing?” said the lad on Iggy’s left. “Why can’t I hear it?”

“Dunno. It’s very convenient, though, if you want to speak in strict confidence. Why didn’t you do that before, Miss Jones?”

`_◊◊ MY APOLOGIES. IT IS NOT RELIABLE. I AM NOT SURE YET HOW I AM DOING IT. VERY STRANGE INDEED, EH? I WISH I COULD TALK TO YOU LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME, AND TEACH YOU, INSTEAD OF PASSING YOU OFF TO SOMEONE ELSE. ◊◊_`

“Maybe that wouldn’t be a good idea,” said Ignotius. “You’re a bit loud. Can you speak more quietly?”

I don’t know how to turn it down yet, thought Sparrow.

“Hello?” said Ignotius. “Cat got your tongue again?”

`_◊◊ SORRY. I’M STILL FIGURING THIS OUT. THERE’S NOT MUCH MORE I CAN SAY HERE BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO GET TO CLASS BUT – KNOW THIS, MY YOUNG FRIEND. I AM SORRY TO HAVE PUT YOU IN AN AWKWARD POSITION YESTERDAY. I WILL TELL VIOLET THAT YOU NEED HER AID, AND I WILL NOT TELL HER WHY. YOU HAVE MY WORD. ◊◊_`

“I’d really like to do an unbreakable vow to make sure.”

`_◊◊ PLEASE. THAT IS EXTREMELY DANGEROUS MAGIC. YOU ARE SKILLED ENOUGH TO DO IT, BUT YOU HAVE NOT CONSIDERED THE CONSEQUENCES. WOULD YOU REALLY RISK YOUR ENTIRE LIFE JUST TO KEEP THIS SECRET? ◊◊_`

“Maybe.”

`_◊◊ PLEASE. I WOULD NOT WISH A TALENT LIKE YOURS TO BE DESTROYED BY OVER-REACHING. ◊◊_`

“You’re reaching pretty far yourself,” said Iggy. “Maybe too far. Did you think about that?”

`_◊◊ I DID NOT. NOT BEFORE I WAS INFORMED OF HOW FOOLISH I HAD BEEN. AND NOW YOU KNOW WHY I AM SUSPENDED FROM CLASSES. KEEP THAT IN MIND. AND REMEMBER THAT YOU HAVE MY WORD. IF YOU TRUST ME, IT SHOULD BE ENOUGH. IF YOU TRUST ANYONE, YOU SHOULD NOT NEED A TERRIFYING SPELL OF OATH-BINDING. DO YOU TRUST ME? ◊◊_`

“Well, yeah, I mean I’ve trusted you this far. And I guess I’m making it sound like I don’t. Sorry about that.”

`_◊◊ THEN CAST NO UNBREAKABLE OATH FOR ANYONE. UNLESS, PERHAPS, A SECRET REVEALED WOULD MEAN A LIFE ENDED. ◊◊_`

Ignotius nodded.

`_◊◊ GOOD LUCK TO YOU, THEN. ◊◊_`

Ignotius bowed, with his friends following his lead, and then they departed for whatever class they had.

As they were nearly around the bend, Sparrow Sent Ignotius one last message, saying, `_◊◊ I AM GREATLY CONCERNED FOR YOUR LIFE, YOUNG FRIEND. ◊◊_`

Ignotius paused.

`_◊◊ I FEAR THAT YOU HAVE INDEED CAST THE UNBREAKABLE vow, AND BOUND SOMEONE TO YOUR SECRET. I KNOW YOU CAN’T TELL ME IF YOU MADE IT, NOR WHAT OATH YOU MADE, BUT – FOR GOD’S SAKE, FIND A WAY TO RELEASE SOMEONE FROM THE TERMS. I CAN’T LOSE YOU OR ANYONE. ◊◊_`

Ignotius made no sign of assent, but continued onward and out of sight.

...

The following day was the day to report to Professor Longbottom, after the day’s classes were over. And though each of the children was somewhat reluctant to gather before him, feeling that they had little progress to report on yet, the Professor informed them that they appeared to be sticking together instead of flying apart in nervous frustration, and that such a thing was a very good first step all on its own. He did not mind that they had not made any world-changing breakthroughs in the space of one week. His only recommendation at this point was for each student to begin perfecting the O.W.L.-exam spells within their area of expertise, in order to get a head start on tutoring everyone else.

As the children were departing, Violet asked to speak with Sparrow in private, and they hung back as everyone else made for the main castle doors.

Violet informed her that a young fellow by the name of Nott had sought her aid, and said that he had been sent by Miss Jones. Violet had agreed to tutor him in the evening hours, without a great deal of reluctance, although she felt as though her time had been somewhat imposed upon by Sparrow, time both to study and to spend with Cormac.

Sparrow protested that they all had an abundance of time these days, too much in fact, and Violet said that she felt dragged into this whole mess anyway. Sparrow reminded her that she had made a free choice to come along on this adventure as everyone had. Violet did not find these words reassuring. She did not want to think of Sparrow as a captain leading a charge, but as a friend and an equal – and she did not feel that she had many equals, so to have a friend become a captain was just a little disturbing.

Sparrow apologized to her for treating her as something other than a good friend. Violet apologized to her for acting like her course of study was more important than the journey they were facing. Sparrow hastily assured her that she did not mean to imply Violet should consider her personal ambitions any less important that Sparrow’s, and that the pursuit of great knowledge was a noble goal with or without anything else anyone was doing.

`_≠≠≠ AND THAT IS WHY I CALL YOU MY FRIEND. ≠≠≠_`

Sparrow and Violet alike were startled by this sudden exchange of thought. But, breakthrough though it may have been, Violet could send no further thoughts towards Sparrow, no matter how hard she tried.

Well, that was another thing to study. Violet assured Sparrow that, for the sake of Ignotius, she would always try to make sure she had time to tutor him. She also warned Sparrow that there would surely be more people looking for the assistance of their beloved Shield Maiden, as soon as word got out about this.

And indeed, there were a fair few in the next few days. Cassie Lee had cast a bit of fiendfyre in the Hufflepuff hearth and needed the strongest barrier she could think of until the fire burned itself out. (It was some trouble for even Sparrow to hold her shield against it.) Angus Fletcher had accidentally let an Orkneyan Pixie loose in a Gryfindor dormitory and decided that Miss Jones would know how to handle it. (The answer was yes: grab Miranda and bring her along.) Gloria Maximus had challenged a seventh-year student to a midnight duel and then realized she was in over her head, so she grabbed the scariest duelist she could think of, which was…Sparrow, for some reason. (Sparrow did not need to ask Jocasta to come along, not when the Carrow girl’s pride was so wounded, nor did Jocasta need to ask Jill to come along. Jocasta and Jill together wound up giving the seventh-year student a red-hot scolding for even thinking of going through with the duel.)

And so the next few days went, as one by one the students brought their troubles to her. All of them involving situations that they would have been punished for, if the teachers had known.

By the end of three days Sparrow was not entirely exhausted, but she could feel herself getting close. And yet, currently having little other way to connect with her peers, she could hardly refuse to help – until Violet pointed out that Sparrow could wind up allowing the students to become lazy, if she did everything for them. Was she going to end up doing everyone’s homework for them? Tie their shoes? Fluff their pillows at night? An exaggeration, perhaps, but being taken for granted was a danger, especially when everyone knew she had plenty of time on her hands. And, as Violet pointed out, the school had stood for this long without falling apart from the antics of its inhabitants.

For her part, Sparrow pointed out that the school used to have one or two deaths every few years from accidents like this, even more so long ago, and that she wasn’t about to risk that again. Violet conceded that point, but asked why on earth she was letting the students believe that it was a good idea to avoid being given detention for being foolish. Sparrow realized that she hadn’t considered that matter herself. She had been under the impression that a problem big enough to require the attention of the mighty Shield Maiden was one where people were suffering enough consequences already. Surely it was dangerous to stop and measure how much someone in peril deserved aid? Hesitation could cause more suffering.

And yet, Michael Mulligan had asked her to help him sneak some items into his dormitory, and she had done so without hesitation, only realizing at the end that it was a pile of Wizarding Wheezes. She had been assuming it was something embarrassing. She had not scolded Mulligan for using her in such a manner, but had left without a word.

Thereafter she discreetly put out the word that she was beginning to wonder if her trust was being abused, and that mundane matters of neither peril nor grave shame could be easily handled by one’s own friends, thank you very much. Likewise, in the next few incidents of actual peril that Sparrow resolved, she told the student she had saved from detention that it was far, far wiser to ask a competent teacher to handle the matter, never mind risking detention – and certainly never mind the house points. Those were a lot of falderal that created competition where there should have been none.

That last one was a hard sell, but two out of three students meekly promised to ask for a teacher’s help next time. All three asked Sparrow if she could help them learn to do a shield charm better. She gave them what advice she could regarding the emotional effect of spells.

And in the meantime, Sparrow had been met by Ignotius Nott, and granted gratitude for her suggestion, albeit grudgingly. He was struggling in the early days of his learning. Sparrow tried to reassure him that a bright lad like him would get it eventually, as even she had to practice the shield spell in the beginning. He seemed to cheer up at these words.

And so, over the couse of a week and a few days, Sparrow began to feel like she had some direction again, and through it all, she did not feel alone.

She only felt slightly annoyed that Jill and Jocasta were mostly chummy with each other. Jill was keeping herself at arm’s length from Sparrow again, and Jocasta was keeping herself far less than arm’s length from Jill, which meant she wound up being an arm’s length from Sparrow. She could not teach Sparrow about the Tender Caress as she had promised. And sometimes, many times, neither she nor Jill was around at all.

Goodness, was this jealousy! The one thing Sparrow had hoped to avoid! Surely it was fair enough for Jill and Jocasta to stick to each other. And yet – if all Sparrow felt was the lack of the Tender Caress, it would be easy enough to bear, for she had lacked such a thing for quite a long time beforehand. No, there was something else missing here. For it was impossible to deny that, without Cormac by Sparrow’s side on the night Jocasta nearly died, Sparrow would have shaken herself apart.

She had said she loved Jocasta, and it was true. She felt it right down to her bones, the need, the longing –

Goodness, perhaps this was obsession. Not very healthy at all. And yet, there it was. It was easy to be addicted to Jocasta’s presence as Jill was. Whenever the girl was there, Sparrow felt as though she could breathe more slowly, and stop taking matters too seriously. Whenever she was gone, Sparrow felt herself drifting towards her old sense of judgmental self-importance again.

So much for a casual relationship.

All this introspection! It was like she was the girl of October once more, letting words fill her head because they could not reach the people that mattered most to her. And yet – that was hardly true this time. She was not alone, not even completely silent. She could muster herself to broach certain subjects on a far shorter time frame than Jill had. And she could pay attention to things and people outside of herself.

In this case, she was paying attention to the gossip about how Jill had been knighted.

The students well understood that the two were dating, oh yes, Sparrow had seen to that in a spectacular fashion. But before Jocasta’s mortal peril, the talk had been of the two as one spoke of most romantic relationships. Speculation on breakups and infidelity, and so forth. The talk of their grand duel existed alongside such intrigue without crowding it out.

But oh, now there was romance. Now there was storybook romance. The students spoke of the valiant Jillian Patil, who had thrown herself into terrifying danger to rescue the beautiful Jocasta Carrow, and that they had now sworn their undying love. Now there was narrative. Finny Wambsgans told everyone who would listen that the union of Jocasta Carrow and Jillian Patil was a shining example of what they must all aspire to. By such means, where Sparrow had accidentally gained the admiration of the House of Slytherin, Jill had done the same for the House of Gryffindor.

The fact that Jill and Miranda had taken rather drastic measures in a state of sheer panic was left by the wayside. It did not fit the narrative. The narrative was of valiance. In the first few days after the rescue, people were saying that Jill had been granted an honorary membership in the Headless Hunt; after a few days people were saying that Sir Podmore had tapped Jill on the shoulders with a ghostly sword and dubbed her Lady Brave.

Which made it a sad thing to see Jill sitting alone in the room of the Reflecting Pool, staring up at the skylight. The pool was on the second floor today, but this did not prevent the grey light of day from reaching the glass, nor prevent the rain from pounding upon it.

Sparrow said not a word, but stood at an arm’s length from Jill, staring up at the glass for a moment, though in it she found little worth noting. She looked about the room, and, besides the stone walls and the four doorways, there was nothing else to see but the water itself.

`_◊◊ WHAT IS THIS ROOM FOR ANYWAY? ◊◊_`

Jill tilted her head sideways without lowering it, meeting Sparrow’s gaze at an odd angle. “Perhaps a girl better-versed in the castle’s history than me could answer that question.”

`_◊◊ THE BOOK OF HOGWARTS HISTORY ONLY GOES UP TO ABOUT 2030. ◊◊_`

Jill’s brow furrowed. “There’s been decades since then. Right?”

`_◊◊ EVERY BOOK OF GENERALIZED HISTORY I HAVE EVER READ PETERS OUT TWENTY YEARS BEFORE IT’S PUBLISHED. I’VE NO IDEA WHY. ◊◊_`

“Something for you to figure out then.”

`_◊◊ WHY GAZE UP AT THE SKYLIGHT ON A DAY LIKE TODAY? I SHOULD THINK YOU WOULD BE MORE INTERESTED IN THE REFLECTION. ◊◊_`

“Oh, please. Would I wish to look at my own reflection when my neck is all bent like this? Why, I am hideous! And what if the reflecting pool shows only my true desire of having a straight neck after all?”

`_◊◊ THEN I SUPPOSE YOU WOULD STARE AT YOUR REFLECTION FOREVER, AND WITHER AWAY. ◊◊_`

“Precisely.” Jill straightened up and shook her head. “Ah, there. Much more easily fixed than I feared.” She patted the floor next to her. “Come, my dear. Rest your weary feet.”

Sparrow sat.

Jill scooted up next to her and put an arm over her shoulder. Sparrow began to feel as warm as she did before a roaring fire.

`_◊◊ LESS THAN AN ARM’S LENGTH TODAY? ◊◊_`

“When I am less than troubled? When there is less fire in my bones? Aye, then I do not fear to be close to you, not as much as I did before.”

`_◊◊ LESS TROUBLED. EVEN THOUGH JOCASTA IS NOT WITH YOU? ◊◊_`

“Not with me physically. But here?” She tapped her breastbone. “And here?” She tapped her temple. “That’s a bit different.”

`_◊◊ AW. ◊◊_`

“I do wonder, though. About this mental link, whatever it is. I worry that it could get out of control, if we fail to understand it. And I would not wish for her to be inside my head. Nor would I wish you to be there.”

`_◊◊ IS IT THAT DANGEROUS? ◊◊_`

`_ ††††† YOUR SHIELD ONLY WORKS IN THE WAKING WORLD. †††††_`

`_◊◊ SCARY THOUGHT. SCARY THOUGHTS. SO MUCH FIRE BEHIND YOUR EYES. ◊◊_`

“Yet contained as well as I can. Especially with you here.”

`_◊◊ AM I HERE? I WONDER. I AM NOT IN THE HEROIC TALE OF YOU AND JOCASTA. I WOULD BE A KNIGHT FOR BOTH OF YOU. ◊◊_`

“And I would say the same to you. But there are…some things to work out between me and her, first. You know how it is. Can’t rush into anything too quickly, eh?”

`_◊◊ SOME THINGS TO WORK OUT BETWEEN US AS WELL. AND I WORRY I RUSHED INTO A RELATIONSHIP WITH JOCASTA BEFORE WE COULD WORK THOSE OUT. ◊◊_`

“Ah, well.” Jill lifted her arm from Sparrow’s shoulder, and leaned over the pool, finally bothering to look at her reflection. “I wonder if I rushed into things with you? Or if what we did in the library, so many months ago, was a culmination of three years. And I could say the same of you and Jocasta. In a way.”

Sparrow snorted. `_SHE WAS A JERK FOR MOST OF THOSE YEARS._`

“I could agree,” said Jill. “Many was the time I felt the same.” She sat up and leaned back on her arms. “So…when did you decide otherwise?”

`_◊◊ TOOK A WHILE. SLOWLY. I WAS JOKING AROUND ABOUT HER FLIRTING WITH ME. BUT THEN…AT SOME POINT IT WASN’T REALLY A JOKE. NOT SURE IF IT WAS BEFORE OR AFTER HER CRAZY OFFER. ◊◊_`

“And these days?”

`_◊◊ THESE DAYS I DON’T WANT TO ADMIT THAT I NEED HER. I DON’T WANT TO THINK THAT I’M DEMANDING HER TIME. AND YET…THERE IT IS. ◊◊_`

“Sparrow?”

`_◊◊ HM? ◊◊_`

“She needs you.”

`_◊◊ HOW? ◊◊_`

“Same way I do.”

`_◊◊ SO WHY ON EARTH – ◊◊_`

“Like I said. We have a few things to work out first. And neither of us wants to hurt you.”

`_◊◊ I DON’T THINK YOU COULD. ◊◊_`

“I did, upon a September morning. Because you loved me then. I could hurt you again, because you love me now. But that’s emotional. I am referring to physical pain.”

`_LIKE I SAID. IMPOSSIBLE._` Sparrow scooted over to Jill and rested her head upon the girl’s shoulder. `_I COULD NEVER FEAR YOU. ◊◊_`

“That remains to be seen. As it is, you know now that neither of us truly wishes to be distant from you. And, when I think about all we have been through already…I think of the rain.” She pointed to the skylight. “Look up, little bird.”

Sparrow raised her eyes to the glass, where the rain pattered down. `_WHAT AM I LOOKING AT?_`

“The rain. Look at how it gathers. Focus on the drops, and think about how one droplet joins another.”

As Sparrow watched the rainfall, she saw the droplets running together into a slightly larger trickle.

`_◊◊ EACH ONE OBLITERATES THE OTHER. ◊◊_`

“Or, you could say they both give up their old forms to make something greater. Neither is lost, just…changed. The substance remains. And then – look there.” She pointed to a spot just a bit lower on the stream. “Another droplet joins, and the water runs wider than before. And there, and there – two more, and the stream is a course. And another, there, and the stream is a river. All running together, far stronger than they would be separately -- yet still you see each source, each part, before it joins the whole.”

`_◊◊ WHAT ARE YOU GETTING AT? ◊◊_`

“You.”

`_◊◊ I AM NOT A RIVER. ◊◊_`

Jill laughed softly. “Perhaps not. And yet – you introduced Jocasta to Miranda, and me to Jocasta, and so all three of us have benefitted, in a way. And you have brought six people together. Six people running together, now, and already we have saved each other from destruction once – no doubt again, depending on the danger we face together. So do not regret your relationship with Jocasta, nor worry that you and she might fly apart. Whatever else you two are, you run together. That’s the important thing. Just like you and me.”

`_◊◊ WE’RE A RIVER? ◊◊_`

“Possibly sweeping everything down to the sea, if we’re not careful! Maybe if I cry too much I’ll do that all on my own.”

`_◊◊ OH NO YOU WON’T. I’LL DO IT WITH YOU. ◊◊_`

“Ah, but sometimes you won’t be there.”

`_◊◊ WHAT IF I’M LITERALLY ALWAYS THERE? WHAT IF I NEVER EVER LET YOU GO? ◊◊_`

“I can think of situations where that would become very gross very quickly. But for today – today I think it would not be dangerous for you to be around me. Why, it might even be just what I’ve been looking for all along!” Jill rose in an instant, and scooped Sparrow into her arms. “Maybe today, you get to be the princess.”

Sparrow did not protest very much as Jill carried her out of the room.

…

Upon a Tuesday morning, at the Hufflepuff dining table, there sat Jill, and Jocasta beside her, in her usual defiance of mealtime custom these days. Not that anyone around seemed to mind. Nobody was giving Cormac any trouble for sitting with Violet at the Ravenclaw table every other day, and the Gryffindors invited Jill over to their table as often as not. Funny how that worked out.

Sparrow sat down across from them and decided this was a good time to ask them about the situation. With a bottle of ink and a quill, this time, in case she wanted to say anything less than serious. Her head was always so serious these days.

She wrote upon her parchment and handed it to Jocasta, across the kidney pie.

“Is it a whirlwind romance,” said Jocasta. She stared at the parchment for a second, then swooned, and leant herself upon Jill sitting next to her. “Oh, she positively sweeps me off my feet. Then again I would expect a Quidditch beater to do that anyway. I probably weigh less than a bludger.”

Sparrow took the parchment back, and wrote, I miss your sweet caress.

“Whose?” said Jill.

Scribble scribble. _Both of you. One I understand, because we worked that out a few weeks ago. But the other! Oh! I shall become lazy and indolent without my tutor to keep me studious! And I find myself getting self-serious again, without my Lady Lawbreaker to bring me down to earth. Easy to get more anxious._

“Ah ha,” said Jocasta. “I do for you something like what you do for me. Well, my dear,” – Jocasta leant forward with her elbows on the table, in a pose of keen interest – “that is easily solved. How easy to be distracted by my whirlwind romance, eh? And perhaps I can distract you as well.”

“Assuming I believe it to be safe,” said Jill. “My apologies, Sparrow. One moment.” She whispered in Jocasta’s ear. Jocasta nodded, and Jill continued. “Sparrow, can I see your ink and quill for a moment?”

Sparrow handed over both. Jill scrawled on the parchment for a moment, then handed it back. It read, _Bear in mind that we're still trying to work out how to avoid hurting you on an emotional or physical basis. Even if you could avoid suffering from the physical manifestations of our greater griefs…well, even that much is a little embarrassing to reveal! So certain topics remain rather personal, and thereby keep us distant. Couldn’t even talk about them in the Dragon Tower. Even if Filch hadn’t been there._

Sparrow took her ink and quill back, and wrote, _You sound like where I was with the Lethifold, before this month._

Jill nodded.

scribble. _Couldn’t even tell me, of all people?_

Jocasta’s irreverent air vanished in a moment. “Some doors are currently closed.”

scribble. _Very well._

“And on a less sensitive note,” said Jill, “considering the great passions of recent days, I have been…wary of our wands, again.”

“Wands, hm?” Jocasta wiggled her eyebrows.

Jill elbowed her. “Our literal wands, dummy. They always want to smack together when I get more heated than usual.”

“Heated, hmmmmmm?”

“Shut up!”

Scribble scribble. _Well, as long as we can be sure to be no farther than arm’s length._

“Please,” said Jocasta. “I will come back to you soon, Sparrow. I’m not a bad girl. This is just a casual fling.”

Jill snorted.

Scribble scribble. _I have no wish to imply any jealousy on my part, especially since I’m part of the reason you two are together right now instead of slowly pining away. And it is…the season for romance. Is it not._

“Hark,” said Jocasta, “I think I detect someone grumbling. Oh, deary me, you have to deal with everyone talking about love. How dreadful. This must be a terrible season for you.”

`_◊◊ I. DO NOT. NEED. REMINDING. ◊◊_`

“The season is somewhat annoying,” said Jill. “Especially now that I get people saying they want to fit me for a suit of armor. Honestly.”

Scribble scribble. _You might as well go looking for the Holy Grail at this point._

“We’ll take care of that after everything else."

"Now hang on a second," said Jocasta. "Sparrow's the pure and noble one here. Looking for the Holy Grail is her job."

Scribble scribble. _Noble yes pure no. Certainly not after getting involved with YOU, my dear._

Jocasta giggled. "I am a corrupting influence, then. We shall have to find someone else then. Someone like...Oh, how about Cormac?"

"An excellent choice," said Jill. "A fine fellow by all accounts, especially mine."

Scribble scribble. _And yet Jill's the actual knight here._

"Oh for Heaven's sake!" said Jill. "To call me such a thing! As if Jocasta is some sort of porcelain damsel that I have to keep safe with my big strong arms."

“Not that I mind when you do,” said Jocasta.

"Not that I mind doing it," said Jill.

Scribble scribble. _With all that in mind, I might need you to be able to separate yourselves for a period of time._

“Uh oh,” said Jocasta. “Watch out, Jill. She’s gonna drag you into something dangerous, and I won’t be there to save you. What is it, Sparrow? An expedition to the Forbidden Forest? A surreptitious jaunt to Hogsmeade? Tickle a sleeping dragon?”

Scribble scribble. _I need help practicing nonverbal spells._

“Oh,” said Jocasta, looking a little deflated. “Well that’s less dangerous. Unless you cast an explosive charm by accident.”

“Quite the advanced subject there,” said Jill. “Not that we’re avoiding advanced subjects these days. But why me?”

Scribble scribble scribble. _I figured your presence would give me some confidence, after what happened in the forbidden section of the library. You don’t have to kiss me or anything, at least I hope not. But last time you did I managed to perfect a nonverbal spell. So…maybe it would work again._

“Fair point,” said Jill, “although a kiss will be a last resort.” She gave Sparrow a Look. “I trust you not to violate that stipulation.”

Scribble. _You have my word._


	27. The Empty Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparrow and Jill work out some of their problems and create one or two more.

There were two parts of the school year that Sparrow despised. One was the part where she had to go home and could only practice magic inside the house and had no Jill close to hand. A trying three months of summer, which tested her patience to the limit.

The other part of the school year she hated most was the lead-up to Valentine’s Day. Because the decorations were everywhere. Every banister was draped in pink crepe. Every door had a red paper heart on it. Every portrait was dressed in their formal best. Everywhere, paper cutout letters proclaimed the magic of true love. Even down in the dungeons. At least barf didn’t look quite so out of place down there.

Worse, there were a number of students who asked her to deliver certain letters of a certain type to certain people. They could have waited for the Cupids to do the job when they arrived ahead of The Big Day, but they were so very anxious to get these messages sent, and so very anxious to make sure they were delivered quietly, without commentary and without the fanfare and fooforal that the Cupids brought, and wasn’t Miss Jones trustworthy as anything?

Was she, now. She didn’t know anymore. Not after what she’d done to McGonagall.

So Sparrow almost refused, but oh, those puppy-dog eyes should not be filled with tears. So she wound up being a postal worker in between everything else she was busy with. She began to understand very well what the Fat Lady had felt about her own request last November. Lest she be swamped by this new responsibility, she had to make it very clear that she would not work on Sundays.

And, per Cormac's recommendation, take advantage of the fact that her close friends came from all four houses. Not that Miranda felt she could help, owing to her social distance from the remainder of Gryffindor. So Sparrow wound up talking to George Peasegood, because he was a prefect, he knew Jill and he was easy to persuade when it came to maintaining confidentiality. Which is to say, he could not resist when Sparrow put on her Serious Face.

Sparrow had her Serious Face on fairly often these days, partly because of the holiday season, partly because it was always still raining or misting. The blooming season wouldn’t happen until March. So the options were to be cooped up in the castle with Romance shouting at her from every direction, or stand outside in the cold rain.

There was only one place where this was not true. A particular little tower atop a skinny rock, connected to a formerly neglected courtyard by a long wooden bridge. This misty Wednesday evening, the bridge was being nice, and she and Jill could reach the tower without being tossed into the raging torrent below. Yet that is not to say they could reach the tower without trouble, for the dueling club was meeting in the courtyard, and they noticed Sparrow heading towards the tower with Jill.

There were quite a few jeers from the crowd about the brave knight Jill cheating on her one true love, hopefully in jest, if they did understand that Jill was of a trio now. Sparrow began to worry that many of them had forgotten, and would challenge Jill for the violation.

Jill looked back at the crowd, and they shrank away from her.

Then she looked at Jocasta, who was standing on the dueling platform. Jocasta gave Jill a thumbs-up, and Jill gave one back.

The crowd was left confused, and there was a disgruntled muttering among them.

Sparrow and Jill crossed the bridge into the tower.

They crossed the threshold. Sparrow shuddered. There was…something about this place. It might have been the lichen growing on the inside of the walls, or the spartan setting -- nothing but a little rotted furniture and a stone staircase winding around the wall, leaving nothing for a floor except at the bottom and the top. Maybe it was the broken windowpanes that let in the wind and rain. Something about this place felt lost, and broken.

A familiar feeling, but one Sparrow had not returned to since she had come to Hogwarts.

Had any Wizard ever cast a repair charm here? Why did the castle let this part of itself die, and then cut off access to it at random?

There were not even ghosts, in this tower. On dark moonless nights the castle, despite being pitch-black, still had pale glowing figures flitting about the halls, and it never felt truly alone. Even without the ghosts, Sparrow could always feel a gentle warmth upon her skin, as if the centuries of magic had left a kind of eternal echo. There was something like that here, as the opposite -- not a gentle warmth but a subtle chill, a faint touch of what it felt like to pass through a ghost.

A chill on her mind, as well. Sparrow had hoped to ask Jill a question as soon as they stepped inside, but no matter how much she tried, the telltale echo was not forthcoming.

Sparrow tapped Jill on the shoulder. Jill turned. “What is it?”

Sparrow gestured to the tower in exasperated confusion, as if to ask what it was, and why. Jill herself looked confused. Sparrow put her palm to her face.

“Why here?”

Nod nod nod.

“It’s because nobody likes this place. Nobody would follow us in. It’s creepy.”

Nod nod nod.

“And you don’t like it either.”

Emphatic nod.

“You wanted some place quiet to practice nonverbal spells. I didn’t think there could be any place quieter than this. If you’d like, we can try the dungeons.”

Shake shake shake.

“Here it is, then. I’m sorry about picking this place. I just…I’d like to be able to show Longbottom some real progress before the end of this week, right? And you wanted help. And we couldn’t get any time until after dinner was over because Violet insisted we practice the locomotion charm until our fingers bled. And we couldn’t get any time before the sun rose because you had to help that kid get a ring away from something in a toilet – what exactly was that about?”

Sparrow shook her head and put her hand over her mouth.

“Fine. We’re stuck here. So, first things first. Let’s see how our wands are doing. You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

Sparrow wiggled her eyebrows.

“Shut up,” said Jill. “Honestly, that’s not good thoughts to have right now. It would probably make things worse.” She took her wand out of her pocket, and rested it on her palm. It pointed itself towards Sparrow like a compass.

Sparrow took her wand out of her pocket, and rested it on her palm. It pointed itself towards Jill’s wand. The two wands were now pointing at each other, but not moving any more strongly than that. Jill let out a long breath.

Suddenly they shot out of their owner’s hands and clacked together.

Sparrow looked at Jill quizzically. She shuffled closer to the wands.

“Um,” said Jill. “I’ll admit that was my fault. What if we just…one moment.” She sat upon the clammy stone floor, and closed her eyes, breathing deeply in and out. For a few minutes, nothing happened.

Then both wands clattered to the ground. Sparrow dived for hers and snatched it off the floor.

“I guess that works,” said Jill, as she picked up the other wand. “They respond to thoughts. Maybe they fall asleep when there are none. Anyway! Why don’t you start by casting the shield charm without words. I know you can do that.”

Sparrow steadied herself, took a solid stance, pointed her wand and said clearly within her mind, _protego!_

Nothing came out of the end of the wand.

Oh, now the fussy bitch didn’t even want to cast a shield?

“Hang on,” said Jill. She looked at the wand in her hand. “I got mixed up. See the markings here?” She pointed to a series of faint markings on the handle. “This one is yours. We ought to – hang on, hang on.”

Sparrow was putting Jill’s wand in the girl’s face, handle-first, as if to demand hers back. She was also vibrating.

“I know you like you have your own wand in hand,” said Jill, “But this is an opportunity.”

Sparrow stamped her foot.

“Stop that. You’re acting like such a child right now.”

Sparrow crossed her arms.

“Here, I’ll stand close. Alright? Close as I dare. And then you try using my wand. I want to see if you can use it to cast a stunning spell.”

Sparrow raised an eyebrow.

“Just try it!”

Sparrow steadied herself, took a solid stance, pointed the wand away from Jill, and said clearly within her mind, Stupefy!

A jet of red light shot out of the wand and bounced crazily around the room, forcing both girls to duck. Jill shouted “Protego!” and a glowing dome appeared over their huddled forms. The stunning spell bounced a few times off the dome and dissipated.

“I knew it!” said Jill, dismissing the spell. “We can use each other’s wands without too much trouble. I even managed your dome trick. Hey, try shooting a fireball out of mine. Out the window, please.”

Sparrow pointed her wand at a broken window.

“Maybe it’s better if you stand closer to it,” said Jill. “Just to make sure you’re shooting out the window and not at it.”

Sparrow shook her head.

“Why not? Oh. Very well, I will stand beside you once more.”

Both girls went to the broken window, Jill standing as close as she dared.

Sparrow pointed the wand out to the dark night and hesitated.

“Oh, now what? Wait, you wouldn’t even know how to do that one, would you. Look here.” Jill held her wand out. “Quarter rotation upward from Six O’Clock to Nine O’Clock…good…then straight flick at the top of the arc…excellent. Got it in one. Now try it.”

Sparrow steadied herself again, pointed the wand out the window, and did the movement exactly as Jill had demonstrated, while at the same time reciting clearly within her mind: _Incendio!_

Nothing.

“Try it again,” said Jill.

_Incendio!_

Still nothing. Sparrow took a deep breath, let her heart rate slow, and pointed her wand out the window again. She focused on a tree in the twilight distance that she could barely see. It was a tree she had come to know and hate, a tree whose dead branches stood as a close and ugly marker of all that had been lost. She focused her hatred upon that mark. Once again she spoke clearly within her mind: Incendio!

Sparrow was nearly thrown backward into Jill as a ball of fire shot out the window and away from the tower. It struck the tree and set the outer branches alight. A number of the bushes nearby got up and ran away.

Well. Hagrid wasn’t going to like that.

“You did it,” said Jill. “You can cast spells nonverbally after all. Here.” She grabbed her wand out of Sparrow’s hand and replaced it with Sparrow’s wand. “Sorry to hold on to your wand so long. I’m sure you don’t want to be doing any more fireballs this evening.”

Sparrow nodded, then mimed turning a key in a lock.

“Hm? Oh! Right! We were going to try the unlocking spell. Here.” She produced the padlock from her pocket. “Guess I got distracted by my lovely friend.” Jill’s wand tugged towards Sparrow. “Stop that! Stop it!” She shoved the wand in her pocket, which didn’t exactly calm the wand but did stop it, after a certain distance. “UGH! See, Sparrow, this is what I put up with for you.”

Sparrow nodded, and took the lock, as Jill sat heavily on the floor with a harrumph and closed her eyes.

What was the wand movement for Alohamora? Oh right. Straight line down from 12 and then a quarter rotation counterclockwise, like a backwards J. She pointed her wand at the lock, made the movement as best she could, and said within her mind, _alohamora!_

Nothing.

Again and again she tried, but there was nothing. It had not even budged.

Professor Budge. What was he going to think? If she didn’t get this right he was going to be even more disappointed than he probably was already. He believed in her, he always believed in her. She loved talking to him more than any other teacher. Flutwick could go hang and Slughorn was an arrogant prat, Longbottom was always an awkward conversation these days and she’d only somewhat forgiven Hagrid for December’s incident. But Budge was nice.

It was with this desire to impress in mind that Sparrow, one last time, cast the spell. And it worked. In fact, it worked a little too well. The lock flew apart.

The sound of metal ringing on stone would probably have startled Jill out of her meditation even without the bolt hitting her on the shoulder.

Sparrow nearly dropped her wand as she knelt down to Jill and put a hand on her shoulder. `_◊◊ SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY — ◊◊_`

Jill rubbed her shoulder and said, "Sparrow, it's fine. I've had worse. At the very least it got you talking again." She waved her wand at the scattered bit sof metal. "Accio lock pieces!"

This time every piece of the lock came flying towards Jill, from multiple directions. The sound of them striking the instantly-raised barrier was that of pebbles hitting a window. 

"Should have thought of that," said Jill. "Hey, if you can speak after all, why'd you keep mum earlier?"

Sparrow raised her hands in a shrug of genuine confusion.

Jill looked equally confused. "Were you just...going non-verbal, then? You've never done that before."

Sparrow shook her head. _I don't know what's going on with this._

Nothing.

`I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON WITH THIS.`

Still nothing.

Sparrow sat upon the stone and pouted.

Jill picked up the pieces of the lock and cast a simple repairing charm on them. “Good work anyway. Just don’t cast that spell willy-nilly until you’ve got it under control, eh? Usually you want to unlock things discreetly. You look anxious. What's the matter?”

Sparrow brought her ink and quill and parchment out of her robes and lay the parchment on the damp stone floor. It was tricky to write with ink in these circumstances. Nearly impossible. Come on, come on, she had to get a message to Jill. Lumos! There, that made it a bit easier.

She handed the parchment to Jill.

_I’ve been thinking for a while about that Priori Incantatem. You get those effects from wands that are trying to oppose each other. So…what would happen if they tried to work together, instead? Put them side-by-side and cast a spell._

“If you think that would work…" Jill's shoulders slumped.

Scribble. Too much to venture?

Jill nodded. 

Scribble scribble scribble scribble. I see a great conflict within you, here. Between the your fear of the wands, and what you wish to be. I know you wish to protect people. I know you wish to keep me safe. I know how much you want to hold me in your arms. And yet – you feel so very embarrassed by the wands seemingly deciding that for you. So you hold yourself back. But how do you know what the wands are actually thinking?

“I don’t.”

Scribble. So why do you let them stop you?

“It’s…not just about the wands, alright?”

Sparrow tilted her head and looked perplexed.

“Let’s say the wand is a focus of my fear. You know of the fire behind my eyes. If I let it out, if I let it loose…I wonder if even you could survive.”

Sparrow mimed looking shocked and offended, then put her hands on her hips.

“Hey. I said even you. Trust me, I can burn hotter than you imagine. It might not even be safe for me to give you a hint!”

Scribble. Hint please.

“You’re sure?”

Sparrow nodded.

“You’re really sure?”

Sparrow nodded harder.

“As you wish..." Jill stood up, towering over Sparrow as high as she possibly could. "Keep your wand ready, then. And brace yourself. Come on, up."

Sparrow stood and set her feet in a stable stance.

Jill raised her wand above her head and said, “Fuego!”

At once a stream of fire erupted from the end of her wand, and became a ribbon, winding around the wall, until it met itself again and became a whirl of fire, swirling round and around and around the two Wizards, a tornado of fire just as Jill had raised a tornado of air many weeks ago.

Round and around it swirled, and the wind whipped Sparrow’s robe about her, and it stole her parchment right out of her hands, and tossed it into the fire.

The temperature in the tower might have become very high indeed if not for the open windows, and even with them, Sparrow was already sweating. She began to wonder if she ought to raise her shield after all. Jill did not seem to be focusing on her, or anything.

The temperature was making it difficult to breathe now. Sparrow at last raised her shield about herself --

And kept sweating. The shield didn't block heat. Great. And Jill wasn't paying attention. Time to snap her out of it.

_Alright Jill, you can let go now._

Dammit, no luck. Sparrow let her shield down. Jill, I get the message! You can stop now!

Still nothing. Sparrow reached up and put her hands on Jill's shoulders.

`_◊◊ FOR GOD'S SAKE JILL, STOP! ◊◊_`

At once the flames vanished.

Jill stood there a moment, gasping for breath.

Then she gasped for breath again when Sparrow hugged her about the middle. “Oh!” she said. “Did I scare you after all?”

Sparrow let her go and nodded.

“Well, you can see what I’m worried about. Look.” Jill gestured to the walls. “I think I weakened the mortar.”

Sparrow glanced at the walls. The walls did appear to be shedding black flakes from between the stones. They joined the piles of ash that had once been rotting furniture.

“I’m the problem here,” said Jill. “The wands are just…a visual manifestation, I suppose. They make me feel like I’m out of control. In spite of how much I work for that.”

Sparrow beckoned Jill towards her. Jill leaned forward. Sparrow took the girl’s head in her hands and put their foreheads together.

`_◊◊ NEVER CALL YOURSELF A PROBLEM. ◊◊_`

`_†††††SURELY IT IS A TITLE I DESERVE. †††††_`

`_◊◊ NEVER MIND DESERVING. NEVER MIND STERN JUDGMENT. NOT HERE, NOT NOW, NOT ANYWHERE OR ANYWHEN. ◊◊_`

`_†††††SO WHAT THEN, IF NOT JUDGMENT? †††††_`

`_◊◊ HOPE. BELIEF IN YOURSELF. IN WHAT YOU CAN DO, AND WHAT YOU HAVE DONE. ◊◊_`

`_††††† AND WHAT DO YOU THINK I HAVE DONE? †††††_`

`_◊◊ YOU HAVE WORKED VERY HARD TO CONTROL YOURSELF. AND THAT MATTERS A LOT. EVEN IF YOU SLIP UP SOMETIMES. BECAUSE IT MEANS YOU DON’T WANT TO HURT PEOPLE. ◊◊_`

`_†††††I APPRECIATE THE SENTIMENT, SPARROW, BUT WE ARE TALKING ABOUT REAL AND PHYSICAL DANGER HERE.†††††_`

`_◊◊ I KNOW. I KNOW YOU’RE SCARED OF YOURSELF. AND MAYBE YOU HAVE REASONS TO BE. BUT IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE FOREVER. IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE YOU. AND WHATEVER HAPPENS, I’M HERE FOR YOU. ALRIGHT? ◊◊_`

`_†††††EVEN IF I AM DANGEROUS? †††††_`

`_◊◊ JOCASTA TOLD ME TO BE A SOFT PLACE TO LAND. THAT MEANS I TAKE A FEW HITS. IF ANYONE CAN HANDLE THEM IT’S ME. ◊◊_`

`_†††††I TOLD YOU. THAT REMAINS TO BE SEEN. †††††_`

`_◊◊ WE CAN TAKE THIS ONE STEP AT A TIME. FIRST STEP IS MY SUGGESTION. MAYBE IF YOU PUT THE WANDS TOGETHER YOURSELF THEN YOU KNOW IT’S YOUR IDEA SO YOU DON’T THINK IT’S EMBARASSING. WHAT DO YOU THINK? ◊◊_`

"Just…give me a few minutes. I need to think about this alone."

Sparrow let go of Jill. Then she bowed, and left her friend there in the bottom of the tower, while she ascended the staircase. Between the tower’s top floor and the bottom, there was no intervening floor, and there was likewise no railing, so Sparrow felt rather exposed as she ascended, though the tower itself rose no more than a few stories. Had the tower been completely open to the elements it would have been quite a dangerous climb in the rain.

Fortunately the top of the tower was closed with a trapdoor. Sparrow opened it, and climbed through the hole. She lit her wand. The top of the tower was as empty as anything. There were no boxes, no tables, no scraps of cloth or rusted iron. Whatever this tower was, it was not for comfort or relaxation.

Sparrow descended the stairs. Jill was waiting at the bottom.

“I have made up my mind,” said Jill. “I am willing to try your suggestion.”

Sparrow beamed, near enough to light the tower from the inside.

Jill drew her wand out of her pocket. “Let’s see if your theory works. On three, ready? One, two…”

On three, both girls tossed their wands in the air, and grasped each other’s hand.

The wands met with a clack, and hung there, above their heads.

For Jill, reaching the two wands was fairly simple. For Sparrow, alas, the wands were above Jill’s head, just out of her reach if she stood on her tiptoes. She jumped, but couldn’t get more than one hand on the wands at a time.

Jill put her arms around Sparrow’s waist and lifted her up to reach the wands.

`_◊◊ OH! I THOUGHT YOU WERE SCARED OF GETTING THAT CLOSE. ◊◊_`

“Let's say we managed to lower that particular barrier. Now, what spell do you want to cast?”

`_◊◊ MY FAVORITE. AND THIS TIME YOU MUST CAST IT SILENTLY WITH ME. ◊◊_`

“Ah ha. That one. The one I’ve never managed except when I’m using your wand. And casting silently, which I’ve never done at all.”

`_◊◊ HEY, IF YOU’RE USING BOTH WANDS IT OUGHT TO WORK. ON THREE, READY? ONE. TWO. THREE! ◊◊_`

As one both girls thought, `_†◊†◊†PRO TEGO! †◊†◊†_`

The shield that resulted from their combined efforts was not Sparrow’s typical shield, for, instead of staying in place, it expanded outward at the speed of a bullet.

The effect of Jill’s fire-tornado now became apparent, for if the mortar had been at its usual strength the stones might have held. As it was, the shield was able to expand to a diameter half again as wide as the tower itself, barely even slowing down, effectively blowing apart the lower-two-thirds of the structure from within.

The rest sat atop the glowing dome, until it slid off, and fell into the gorge with a distant but resounding boom.

Amidst the fading echoes of their actions, Sparrow and Jill stood dumbfounded.

Sparrow turned her head and saw the bridge, littered with scattered stones. She also saw the dueling club in the distance, many of whom were looking rather put-out.

Well, she had just upstaged them, hadn’t she.

Again.


	28. Thanks For The Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McGonagall finally explains why she put up with Sparrow's foolish ambition for so long.

Jillian Patil and Sparrow Jones sat in chairs before Headmistress McGonagall’s desk, at evening on a Thursday.

McGonagall adjusted her glasses. “Let me see if I have Longbottom's report correct. You two experimented with an unheard-of wand effect, and not only managed to achieve silent spell-casting within the space of an evening, thereby setting an entire tree on fire, your wands managed to turn the _Priori Incantatem_ into a spell amplifier. And that this is why the school is now missing a tower. Yes?”

Sparrow and Jill nodded.

“I am glad to know that you are now willing to follow Miranda’s lead in telling your supervisor what you’ve done. I just wish you had told someone what you were doing _before_ you had tried this. Though I will admit, nobody could have expected the result.” She steepled her fingers. “Nor did Professor Clearwater offer any warning of the matter beforehand, so unless she had chosen to be extremely unprofessional and say nothing, the events of the previous evening were not liable to put anyone in immediate peril.

“Still, you two are clearly playing with forces well beyond what you thought you expected. I am tempted to lock both of your wands in separate iron safes at opposite ends of the castle and ask Ollivander to give you new ones that are less volatile, for everyone’s safety.”

Both girls paled. Such as they could.

“But I am playing nice, and assuming that this is another avenue of exploration. I suggest you take it. I expect that you will be much more careful with that Priori Incantatem from now on.”

Jill looked confused. “You’re not mad that we smashed a tower?”

“Firstly, there was no one else in it; secondly, some structural damage is the price of giving wands to a bunch of children. The castle can repair itself. I am more concerned for the remote possibility that anyone was on the ground below the tower. But fortunately for you two, I have not heard any reports of injuries, thereby bearing out Clearwater’s lack of prediction.”

Sparrow brought out her parchment and quill, and wrote upon it, _You speak of playing nice, but I do not understand why you are playing nice with us. I know you have chafed against the Statute of Secrecy for most of your life, but – why? Why even before the events of the last few decades? The memories we saw in the pensive – pardon me for mentioning the first one. Did it have something to do with the Statute like the others did?_

“That is somewhat personal.”

Scribble scribble. _Shan’t bring it up again._

"I don’t mean…you know what, fine. I haven’t spoken to anyone else about this since Dumbledore died." McGonagall drew her wand and tapped the large wooden case on the table beside the desk. There was the sound of many bolts sliding open. She lifted the lid and, with a slight bit of effort, brought out a huge book. "And both of you need to understand the high cost of war anyway."

The book went thump as she placed it on the desk. McGonagall opened the cover and then tapped the pages with her wand. They flipped rapidly to the middle of the book and lay still. McGonagall spun the book around to face the children.

There was a man in the photographs, slightly shorter than McGonagall, with a face that resembled hers. In some pictures he was playing with his children in the garden. In others he was on a broomstick up in the sky, dressed in full flying leathers, the wisps of cloud flashing past the camera. Then as McGonagall flipped the page past the 1980 mark, the pictures were all of his children, and he appeared no more.

Save for a lone gravestone on a high hill, the wild wind bending the grass about it and blowing the clouds behind. On the stone was a carving of a bird with wings spread wide, and below it the inscription:

_Robert McGonagall, 1935-1979. A free bird to the end, an angel in the darkest hour. Fly high, my friend. Fly on._

"Bit morbid to have a photograph of a gravestone in a family album," said McGonagall, "but there was a day of a strong gale, and I decided it would be a fitting to show the wind whirling about his grave. He would have liked that."

"What happened to him?" said Jill.

"Hard to say exactly how it happened," said McGonagall, "But we found one half of him with his broom on one side of a lake and one half on the other, three dead Death Eaters in the crater with him, twenty muggles in the woods beyond, five dead in the burning village across the lake, and the Dark Mark in the sky. If that thing hadn't been there...it's possible we might never have known where or why he'd disappeared. Maybe the muggles would have buried him and signed his death certificate as "John Doe", and he would have vanished out of our world."

"Where was his backup, then?"

"Hm?"

"The other aurors. Did they abandon him? Was he just out on patrol or something and couldn't call for help in time?"

"He wasn't an Auror."

Jill and Sparrow raised their eyebrows.

"A spirited young man, yes. Talented flyer, dashing and daring. A competent fighter, but he never liked that business very much. He handled the war far worse than I did. Couldn't stand the thought of people killing each other for anything. Never joined the Aurors, tried to stay high in the sky even by night. You'd think a pack of Death Eaters at night would have been hard to spot from the air but if they were setting houses on fire they would have been easy to see, and rather obvious with their Dark Mark in the sky. Usually Death Eaters cast the mark _after_ they got the job done. Perhaps they were overconfident."

"What about the witness accounts?"

"Some twat had obliviated the lot of them before I got to the other side of the lake."

Jill's eyes lit up red. The air around her became noticeably warmer.

McGonagall looked only slightly perturbed. "Jill, if you would be so kind as to avoid setting my office on fire?"

Sparrow laid her hand over Jill's. The red light faded.

"Consider that it has been many decades since that moment," said McGonagall, "and that revenge served cold would be served to people who may well have tried to atone. Would you call these people guilty, or innocent?"

Jill hung her head, and said nothing.

"In this case," continued McGonagall, "it was standard operating procedure applied overzealously. Ruined the investigation. Inspector Grey was furious, and sacked the poor junior officer on the spot. But, too late. The damage was done. The Wizarding World never got a chance to know exactly what Robbie had done, nor did my family feel they had a chance to mourn him properly -- it would have been altogether fitting and proper to bury him in the village churchyard, but the muggles didn't even remember that he'd been there, just that there were a few houses caught on fire which caused a gas explosion. We didn't even have the chance to argue that they all had the right to retain their memory in this case."

`_◊◊ I CALL THAT THEFT. ◊◊_`

` `` `

"Theft," said McGonagall. "That's one way to put it."

` `` `

`_◊◊ THEFT FROM YOU, FROM YOUR FAMILY, FROM THE MUGGLES, FROM OUR WORLD, FROM THE ANNALS OF OUR HISTORY-- I DARESAY THAT THE TWENTY MUGGLES MADE IT ACROSS THE LAKE BECAUSE THE SPELLS OF THE DEATH EATERS COULD NOT TOUCH THEM, NOT BEFORE MR. MCGONAGALL'S DEATH NOR AFTER. ◊◊_`

` ` ` `` ` ` `

"You think Robbie pulled a Lily Potter," said McGonagall.

` ` ` `` ` ` `

`_◊◊ I KNOW IT. ◊◊_`

` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` `

"Pity there's no clear evidence to support such a conclusion," said McGonagall. "Though if you call it theft, I can certainly see what you mean. A theft from personal history as well as public. I have often thought that Voldemort's use of posessions from the Hogwarts founders as horcruxes was a theft of our collective heritage."

` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` `

“He put a horcrux in the locket of Salazar Slytherin,” said Jill. “I wouldn’t call that thing my heritage.”

` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` `

“Perhaps not,” said McGonagall, “though you might still find your heritage in the cup of Helga Hufflepuff, or the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw.”

` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` `

“Hers too?” said Jill. “Why on earth – ”

` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` `

“He had a twisted sense of history, alas. And thereby poisoned some of ours. It’s quite a bit difficult to destroy a horcrux without destroying its vessel. Impossible as far as anyone knows. So, Harry and his friends hadn’t any time to waste on experimenting, and we lost two artifacts, as well as a thousand year’s worth of them in the Room of Requirement.”

` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` `

“You could say it’s all junk,” said Jill. “Not something to cling to when other people’s lives are on the line.”

` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` `

"Perhaps not," said McGonagall. "Though if all I have left of the people I knew is bits and pieces, then for me those is the last bit of their life I can hold on to. And I am old, children. Most of the people I knew from my youth are gone. So I am far more inclined to hang onto 'junk' than you might be."

` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` `

"Fair point," said Jill.

` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` `

Sparrow linked arms with Jill, just to make it clear what she wanted to hang on to.

` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` `

"Hold on to people," said McGonagall. "Aye, that's always the more important thing, isn't it. And yet — better to know what my people have been up to over the centuries, than to know nothing of them, eh? To have no roots and thus fall before the howling wind. And as for my roots...well, I could try to trace the origins of my mother's family, but they cut her off as soon as she married my father, so it's not as though I consider that a deep root. And as for my father's line, how am I supposed to look into the genealogy of a couple Irish weavers? Muggles don't exactly keep their records well or carefully. Malfoys and Ollivanders and Potters and McKinnons can trace their family histories back to the Middle Ages, sometimes even before, and claim very deep roots indeed. But not me."

` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` `

`_◊◊ AM I MAKING YOU FEEL UPROOTED, THEN? ◊◊_`

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"Oh no," said McGonagall. "Hardly. I see my roots as going very deep, children. Deep as the tunnels go below this castle, down to the walls full of pictures that whisper. My roots are here. If this is where I stand, no wind shall move me. So you can imagine how it felt to know that the cup of Helga Hufflepuff, the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw and the Locket of Salazar Slytherin had been extant after all, and yet poisoned forever. Living connections to the past, now only fit to be destroyed. Our history tossed into the void by fools who were so jealous of keeping our little world pure that they would break the past and tear down the future for that end -- and in that light, and in the light of Robert's demise, I have reason to agree with Sparrow that our world has suffocated slowly from its secrecy."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Jill looked intrigued. "And yet, your support of our efforts seems even more drastic than the effects of that war would merit."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Are you playing Devil's Advocate, then?"

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"I'm just saying, you do still have living connections to ancient history. The portraits, the Sorting Hat, the ghosts -- all was not lost with the horcruxes. If you hadn't shown those memories in the Painful Pensive I would remain confused as to why you were helping us at all."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"Ah," said McGonagall. "Well. Those are certainly living connections, which means they have their own opinions. I will show you how that goes." She rose, and strode away from the desk, leaving the two girls in trepidation as she disappeared around a bookcase.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

A minute later she returned with a battered old Wizard’s hat, which she placed upon the desk. “Come on then,” she said. “Speak, you ragged old chapeau.”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

The hat seemed to shake itself. “Hardly time for sorting anyone,” it said.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“Speak of Godric Gryfindor,” said McGonagall. “Was he a kind man?”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“He was a brave man!” said the hat. “The bravest and noblest! If you wished to fight a giant there was none better to have at your side.”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“And how was he at talking to people?” said Jill.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“He wasn’t mute, child.”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“No, I mean – could you bring him your troubles?”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“You could and he would finish them off with a swing of his mighty sword!”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“No, I mean – fine.” Jill folded her arms. “What about Helga Hufflepuff, what was she like?”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“A dumpy little kitchen witch! Never saw her fight a giant. Pfah! She just fed the children sweets and fraternized with them. Pathetic.”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Sparrow thumped her hands on the arms of the chair. `_◊◊ WHY YOU INSOLENT SCRAP OF RAWHIDE! TAKE THAT BACK! ◊◊_`

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“Oh, of course, Miss Jones,” the hat sneered. “I would have expected you to side with her.”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"That’s quite enough,” said McGonagall. She picked up the hat and carried it back to wherever it had been hiding, then returned to the children. "You see what I am left to work with? The hat won't speak a word against Gryffindor. If I would know the truth of Helga Hufflepuff or Rowena Ravenclaw I would try to find it in the effects of their personal creations. But no." She sighed. "Both of those are gone. I wish I could say the same for Salazar Slytherin but leaving a Basilisk in the school made it very clear what he was about."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Jill pointed to the portraits and raised her eyebrows.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"Somewhat more trustworthy," said McGonagall. "Though unlikely to remember anything more than what their subject took care to teach them, alas."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

`_◊◊ BUT WHAT OF THE MAN IN THE MEMORY? WHO WAS THE MAN IN THE PLOUGHED FIELD? ◊◊_`

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"Consider," said McGonagall, "that I have already shown you more of my personal history than I care to show anyone."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

`_◊◊ AH. NEVER MIND THEN. ◊◊_`

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"I was not finished speaking. What I mean to say is, the photographs I show you next will give you an indication of why my personal life remains private."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

She tapped the book's pages with her wand again and they flipped to a slightly earlier section.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

This page was full of photographs of one particular man, a younger man. The same man Sparrow had seen in the pensive, the man of the ploughed field. Here, he was smiling as he rowed a coracle, or played hoop-and-stick, or mowed wheat with a scythe. In all manner of everyday things he looked like the world could not bring him down.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Every one of the pictures was static.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

The top of the page read “Doug, 1950s.”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Then McGonagall flipped the page, and there below where it said "1960s" was the same man, dandling his children on his knee, tossing balls to them, teaching them their spelling, reading to them by the firelight. Like the last page, this was the chronicle of a happy and prosperous life.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Then McGonagall flipped a few pages ahead to one marked "1970s", and it was Doug again, only this page had fewer photos. There he was bringing in the harvest, sending his children off to school, teaching them to play the fiddle. The neat rows and columns had wider space between them than the previous pages, as if whoever put this book together had tried to stretch the arrangement to obscure the comparative lack of content. Nevertheless, at a certain point on the right-hand page, the photographs stopped halfway across.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“Did he not do much in the 1970s?” said Jill. “Were his photos from that decade mostly lost?”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"Not lost," said McGonagall. "But past 1973 there was no chance to have any more."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"But no more photographs of his children either?"

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"Ah, well. I wouldn't exactly say that. There's one from the Glasgow necropolis." She flipped the page. "And one last photo from the memorial servie."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

This time the page was even more sparse. In the center was a photo of six headstones, topped with snow, impossible to read in the twilight.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Below it was a photo of a placard that had been set up on a table, bearing a picture of Doug and a short epitaph:

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

_Dougal McGregor, 1937-1973. Devoted father, adoring husband. May his memory be a blessing._

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"He had asked me to marry him," said McGonagall.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"Oh," said Jill. "So all that was -- "

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"I almost did, you know. He was such a kind man."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"Why not then?" said Jill.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"I had not told him I was a witch," said McGonagal.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"You couldn't do that?"

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"Oh," said McGonagall. "I might have. And lost my damn job, and my career along with it. Or I could have married him and never told him, and thus run into the very pain that my mother faced for so many years -- I would have had to hide my magic away, to hope my children were not magical -- imagine what it feels like to hide yourself away from someone you have sworn to trust!"

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Jill and Sparrow exchanged glances.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"I know the feeling very well," said Jill.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"Then you can understand why I had to break off the engagement," said McGonagall. "And why I couldn't explain myself to him."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"I did wonder why both of you looked so distraught in that moment."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

`_◊◊ AND YET YOU HAVE ALL THESE PHOTOGRAPHS OF HIM? ◊◊_`

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"A gift of his father, after the funeral. Whatever copies he could make from whatever post-1953 negatives he could find. Doug and I had remained friends all those years."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

`_◊◊ YOU STILL LOVED EACH OTHER. ◊◊_`

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"We did indeed," said McGonagall. "Though it was a few years before we actually reconciled. And afterward...there was always a little distance between us. I could visit his house on the summer holidays, play with his children, and yet -- never tell him what I was, nor tell him why I had shut him out, nor explain the moments when I could not be there for him."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"What happened to him?" said Jill. "What happened to his family?"

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"Death Eaters," said McGonagall. "A random attack, no different than what Robbie was trying to stop. I was not there to save the McGregor family. I should have been there. If I had just taken the risk and married Doug in full honesty then I would have been in a position to save him. But no, I could not be there. And so perished Dougal McGregor, and his wife Mary Coburn, and his children, Duncan, Alastair, Isobel, and little Fergus, all because I was a damn coward.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"So I have remembered the names of those children, because I must. Because they were stolen from me by the Statute of Secrecy, just as my future with Doug was stolen, just as Robbie was stolen, just as my heritage was stolen. Sparrow, you ask me why I am in on your little game now? Because I failed Doug and I failed his children. And because I failed you."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

`_◊◊ ME? ◊◊_`

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"I could have been guiding you on safe courses towards the end of the Statute years ago. But that afternoon last September, all I did was shut you down, and then tacitly approve of your efforts after all, without giving you real guidance, because I wanted you to do my work for me without having to bear the cost of your failure. I might lost yet another student to the Statute, when you died for making a mistake with the Animagus potion, or got blown to bits by a random reactionary, or...or I don't even know. If I had never tried to take the matter in hand, it would not be you alone I had betrayed, and I came very close to doing that. I am sorry."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

`_◊◊ DO NOT BLAME YOURSELF FOR MY FOLLY. ◊◊_`

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"Should I not?" said McGonagall. "I am the head of a school, after all. This is where children are supposed to become less foolish. It is my job to ensure that."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"Hey," said Jill. "I've been trying to get Sparrow to put the kibosh on this business for three years. I failed her as well."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

`_◊◊ JILL, DON'T YOU BLAME YOURSELF TOO. ◊◊_`

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"What else could I say of myself, for trying to stifle someone who could not be stifled?"

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"You could say you were only slightly younger than you are now," said McGongall, "and that you have all forced each other to learn much over a very short period of time. Now, are you both satisfied with my explanation?"

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Both girls nodded.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

"But you both still look pensive."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

`_◊◊ YOU SAID THERE WERE DEEP TUNNELS? BELOW THE DUNGEONS? ◊◊_`

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“I would recommend you refrain from exploring them,” said McGonagall, “until such time as you don’t have to keep a leaf in your mouth. Talking of which, do you have any of the ingredients for that whole business yet?”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Sparrow shook her head.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“Get them. You need to let the dew lay in darkness for seven days and you only have so much time left. The moon is already waxing towards the half. Let me know if there are any ingredients you can’t find, and I will talk to Professor Longbottom. No further questions. Dismissed."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Both girls left the office looking as grim as they had entered it.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `


	29. In which Sparrow's day starts well and ends well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most students would not enjoy having a 5:30 AM class, but Sparrow enjoys the subject. She does not enjoy the subject of how many mental scars her loved ones carry. But she will study it -- if she is permitted.

“We really shouldn’t be taking our time down here,” said Jocasta.

It was quite early on a Friday morning, in those hours before students were expected to be awake, but after they were allowed to be out of their dormitories. Or, one might say that they were not _not_ allowed to be out of their dormitories; according to Jocasta the rules only said that children had to be in bed by ten PM. They said nothing about being out of bed before six AM. They also said nothing about being out of the common room before six AM. They also said nothing about being in the dungeons before six AM.

Sparrow supposed that teachers and prefects were supposed to have broad discretion to apply the _spirit_ of the rules, but that point was moot, as none of them were ever out of bed and wandering at 5 O’clock in the morning, except, on occasion, Mincent Warbeck.

Two girls snuck past a room that held an echoing conversation. One might call it an argument. Mincent Warbeck was strenuously asserting to Argus Filch that he was, in fact, Mincent Warbeck, and not two children stacked atop each other. This was rather difficult for him to prove without disrobing, as he was about as tall as two teenagers stacked atop each other.

As the two girls crept by, Sparrow halted. Jocasta gestured for her to keep moving, but Sparrow shook her head, and pointed in the direction of the doorway.

“You’re going to spoil things,” said Jocasta. “Come on. Why would you want to blow our cover?”

`_◊◊ HUFFLEPUFF’S HONOR, JOCASTA.◊◊_`

Jocasta took Sparrow by the hand, and held her gaze. `_I AM SORRY FOR ASKING YOU TO IGNORE YOUR HONOR. BUT I MUST INSIST. OUR BUSINESS DOWN HERE IS PERSONAL. AND I DO NOT WISH TO SPEND ANOTHER MOMENT AWAY FROM JILL. •_`

`_◊◊ JOCASTA –◊◊_`

“Come on!” she whispered, and tugged on Sparrow’s sleeve.

Sparrow relented, and Jocasta lead her down the long corridor, and down longer corridors. Sparrow began to wonder if they might somehow lead to the Chamber of Secrets by a back entrance, or if there were other secret chambers, and Slytherin was simply grandstanding when he had named his own.

In the dank darkness of the dungeon hall, down at the end where the wall stood solid, there stood before it a girl not nearly tall as Warbeck. But Sparrow was certain the girl would get there eventually. Jill had, at the last measurement, grown nine centimeters beyond her height at the school year's beginning.

If Sparrow had not let Jocasta go, the girl would have dragged her behind like a kite as she rushed forward. If Jill had not been as sturdy as she was, she might have been knocked forward when Jocasta ran into her and hugged her about the middle

"Miss me much?" said Jill.

"You have no idea. Why did you run ahead of us?"

"I...thought I heard something calling me. I don't know. For all I know it was nothing."

"I didn't hear it," said Jocasta. "Oh wait. You mean like silent calling?"

"Like Sending, yes. But I couldn't make out the words. And they're gone now. And the deep tunnels are still closed off from me, so I can't figure why I was being called. Maybe it was just...all in my own head. I don't know."

`_◊◊ PLENTY OF REASON TO BELIEVE IT WAS FROM OUTSIDE.◊◊_`

"Plenty of reason to think it was from inside too. Ah, well. We should be attending to our business. Not that I entirely understand why you wanted to look for a moth here. There's no flowers in a dungeon. And there's no cloth. They have nothing to feed on."

"Do they not?" said Jocasta. She let go of Jill and led the two girls into a dark and empty cell. Rusty chains hung from the wall, rusty manacles lay open on the stone floor. Jocasta peered at a certain chain, shook her wand out of her sleeve and cast a gentle light upon the links. "From my observations, a Death's-Head Moth does not feed on nectar. Let us see...Ah ha." She plucked a small brown lump off the metal. "We now have our chrysalis. As for our other business...come, let us find a less morbid location."

"That would be literally anywhere else except Azkaban," said Jill.

"Oh," said Jocasta. "I don't know. Execution chambers, charnel houses, graveyards..." She glanced at the manacles and shivered. "No sense lingering here though. Come on." She led Sparrow and Jill towards an open classroom.

There was little in it this morning, as the chairs and desks and podium remained in their places by the wall. Nor was there more than a little bit of light, for neither the fireplace nor the lamps were lit, and none of the three girls dared to set them alight. So they tiptoed into the near-darkness, and Jocasta sat upon the dais, and motioned Sparrow to sit beside her. Upon Sparrow sitting beside her, she patted her lap.

Sparrow raised an eyebrow.

Jocasta giggled. “Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t think about how that would look when I did it. Just lay your head down.”

Sparrow was more willing to oblige this, and Jocasta’s lap was as soft as the rest of her, so it wasn’t a bad deal. Although it was funny to look up at someone from below. Not typically a flattering view, to see the underside of someone’s nose.

“Now,” said Jocasta, “I did promise that I would resolve Sparrow’s loneliness eventually.”

“In your own special way,” said Jill. "Ah, speaking of which -- Sparrow, this business could involve my wand flying right towards you. Do you want to try the trick you taught me earlier? I mean, unless you don't want to be away from your wand."

Sparrow drew her own wand from her pocket. It was faintly pulling in Jill's direction.

`_◊◊ YOU'RE HERE. JOCASTA'S HERE. I THINK I'LL BE FINE.◊◊_`

"If you're sure...alright then." Jill drew her wand from her pocket.

"Now hang on," said Jocasta. "You told me the wands make a loud noise when they meet. We can't be making too many whoops and hollers now that we know Filch might be down here."

Jill pouted.

"What I mean is, get closer and _then_ do the wand thing. Like, hold them an inch apart."

"And get my fingers trapped between them?"

"Just do your best."

Jill sat close in front of Sparrow and drew her wand, holding it delicately as she could. Unfortunately having a minimum number of fingers on the wand meat that she could not resist its pull, and the wand flew out of her hand as Sparrow's wand flew to meet it. Once again they met in the air with a sharp _CLACK,_ and there remained.

Sparrow held her breath as she looked at the doorway.

But there was no sound of someone asking after the noise, nor did anyone appear.

Jill tiptoed to the doorway and peered around it.

`_††††† NO ONE THERE.†††††_`

`_• CLOSE THE DOOR ANYWAY? NO WAIT DON'T — •_`

The hinges creaked just enough to echo through the hall. Jill pulled her hand back from the door but it continued swinging until she put a foot in front of it.

She peered around the doorway again, turned back to the other two and said, "Can't we be doing this somewhere else?"

"Well we can't be going anywhere else _now,_ " murmured Jocasta. "Unless you can get yourself out of the doorway without touching the door. I can do that and Sparrow can do that, but I don't know about you, Miss Giant."

"Fair enough. What a price I pay for the way you find me attractive."

"One of a few ways, yes. Now, let's just keep our voices down, and we can actually get started here."

Jill sat down on the stone close in front of Sparrow. "Begin, then. You were saying, you wanted to resolve Sparrow's loneliness?"

`_◊◊ LONELINESS RESOLVED.◊◊_`

"Ah, said Jocasta, "But what of my tutelage? I have been neglecting that."

`_◊◊ THAT MATTER REMAINS TO BE RESOLVED. I WOULD ENJOY HAVING YOU RESOLVE IT.◊◊_`

Jocasta chuckled. "I'm sure you would. Very well, very well. I have promised you the Tender Caress." She cupped Sparrow's cheek in her palm, her fingers just brushing the skin. "Easy enough, eh? Or so it looks. You have to be thinking gentle. But if you want some real fun, well! That is when you go for the neck.”

“Oh dear,” said Jill. “Sparrow, it appears that we are dating a vampire.”

Sparrow wiggled her eyebrows.

Jocasta bent her head to Sparrow’s neck, but halted when Jill said, “Hang on.”

“Come now,” said Jocasta. “I can hardly resist here. I thirst!”

“Well if you want to be showing me how to do whatever you’re doing, your hair’s in the way. I can't see through it in this light.”

"Come on," said Jocasta. "I don't like doing up my hair. It feels so...prim and proper."

"Well if you don't want to then I can shove my face in, do you want that? Don't answer that. Just let me see what's going on here."

“Sheesh, fine." Jocasta waved her wand and her hair gathered itself up behind her head. “Pfah. I look like a librarian.”

“A hot librarian,” said Jill. She wiggled her eyebrows. “Continue.”

`_◊◊ WAIT.◊◊_`

“Oh, now what?”

`_◊◊ I AM MAD AT YOU.◊◊_`

Jocasta grinned. “I bet you won’t be in a few seconds.”

`_◊◊ I AM SERIOUS. I COULD HAVE STAYED BEHIND TO SAVE PROFESSOR WARBECK FROM AN AWKWARD SITUATION, WHILE YOU SENT AND FOUND JILL. BUT YOU MADE ME RUN AWAY. SO I COULD NOT HELP THE PROFESSOR. FOR ALL WE KNOW HE’S STILL THERE HAVING A ROW WITH ARGUS.◊◊_`

Jocasta stopped grinning. “He’s a professor, Sparrow. He can handle himself. We can’t get away with as much as he can, not when we’re on a narrow mountain path. That business with the tower, you might have made us all fall. We can’t be that reckless for a while, get it?”

Sparrow grumbled.

“I know you want to save everyone,” said Jocasta, “but there is such a thing as triage. Get it? Save the most vulnerable targets first. That’s us, right now. Now may I please begin?”

`_◊◊ YOU MAY.◊◊_`

Jocasta began. Sparrow learned things about her neck, then, that she had not been aware of. Certain spots that were pleasing to be kissed, pleasing indeed. She could not tell if Jill had the same points of vulnerability, but it was something to try.

“There is something I don’t understand,” said Jill.

Jocasta looked up. “Yes?”

“Five in the morning? Down here?”

“If it were any later I’m sure one student or another would be begging for Sparrow’s attention. Little Miss Helpful here has definitely got herself ingratiated with the student body.”

Jill giggled. “She sure looks like she’s ingratiated with the student body right now.”

Jocasta rolled her eyes. “I walked right into that one. Now, as I have said, between our private discussions of sensitive topics and Sparrow’s own hither-thither, I have hardly had time to fulfill my promise to her. Although…we have not taken advantage of nights, have we? And there is one bed we could all share."

Sparrow glanced at Jill, whose face would have been blank if not for the fact that her eyes were gleaming like they had last year when someone offered her a genuine strawberry.

`_◊◊ YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'RE OKAY WITH THIS.◊◊_`

"Maybe," said Jill.

`_◊◊ NOT WORRIED ABOUT YOUR WAND THIS TIME?◊◊_`

"A little less so," said Jill, "and, more importantly, I would have the chance to cuddle you more often."

`_◊◊ AH HA. GOOD REASON INDEED. WELL, IF JOCASTA WANTED TO JOIN US SHE WOULD HAVE TO SNEAK OUT OF SLYTHERIN HOUSE LATE IN THE EVENING.◊◊_`

Jocasta scoffed. “That’s what you think. The Dorm Room of Requirement is proving remarkably useful for clandestine meetings between me and Jill. All either of us would have to do is wake up and sneak over to that door.”

`_◊◊ HUFFLEPUFF DORM ROOM 6? AS IN, HUFFLEPUFF HOUSE? AS IN, NOWHERE NEAR SLYTHERIN?◊◊_`

“Perhaps so,” said Jocasta. “But then, how could I get to it?” She giggled. “Some things are still a mystery. But, as I said, this is the time we have. And…who knows how much time we still have? So I will teach you both what I know, starting with Sparrow because she’s been waiting a while, and because she can carry on when I’m not around.”

`_◊◊ NOT AROUND?◊◊_`

“Well, I mean.” Jocasta shrugged. “I’m not going to be in your company all the time, right? That's true for any of us. Sometimes it will be just two, alone with each other, missing the third. And I want both of you to be happy. This is my gift to you both.”

And with that, she bent to her task once more, pausing now and then to explain what she was doing. In those moments Sparrow missed her kisses already.

Yet after a time, Jill said, “Hold on a moment.”

“I’m holding,” said Jocasta.

`_◊◊ YOU SURE ARE.◊◊_`

“God, I keep walking into innuendo this morning.”

“If we may think of something more chaste for the moment!” said Jill. “Jocasta, you have not had a chance to look Deeply into Sparrow’s eyes yet, correct?”

Jocasta shook her head.

“Then I think this would be a perfect opportunity for you to do so. Provided you are willing for her to look into yours. Would you feel comfortable with that?”

Jocasta did not meet Jill’s gaze, nor Sparrow’s. “I…would need to be in a more secure location. Something with a door I could actually close. And lock.”

`_◊◊ YOU WOULD FEEL VULNERABLE?◊◊_`

“That is part of it.”

`_◊◊ WHAT WOULD YOU WANT TO KEEP OUT?◊◊_`

“In. Keep in.”

Sparrow glanced at Jill, whose face was grim.

“I’m sorry,” said Jocasta. “Being cryptic again. I told you there was a door that I couldn’t open for you yet. This is part of it. If I let you know what’s in my eyes…I can't guarantee that you won't get hurt."

`_◊◊ JOCASTA, WHAT ON EARTH –◊◊_`

“Hush now.” She gave Sparrow a kiss on the forehead. “Let me put it this way. Over the last three years, Jill and I have been closer than I realized. We shared modes of thought as much as we shared talents, though perhaps we differed in the execution. Pity that we did not speak sooner, or I might have understood this earlier."

`_◊◊ AH, BUT THEN YOU MIGHT NOT HAVE BEGUN YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH A SPECTACULAR DUEL.◊◊_`

"We would have begun more sensibly," said Jill. "Also later. You have been an excellent liaison."

"A what now?" said Jocasta.

"Go-between," said Jill.

"Now you're the one setting up for innuendo," said Jocasta. "Ah, but I will not pursue it, for that one is _much_ too easy. Now, Sparrow, as I said -- Jill and I have been alike in soul for longer years that we realized, hard as it was for us to see."

“If you want to frame it that way,” said Jill. “For my part, I would say you were always one of two people keeping my heart intact.”

“Didn’t even realize I was doing it,” said Jocasta. “Yes, I suppose that goes a bit deeper than sharing interests, doesn’t it? And you did the same for me, and whether or not you realized that...we were keeping each other at the dueling club without intending to. The only place besides Sparrow's company where we could meet, and thus find peace, though it looked like war -- the dueling stage allowed us to meet, to learn from each other, even at times to collaborate, without ever having to venture speaking to each other. Each of us was -- I mean, I know on my part that every time I thought of quitting I was terrified of not seeing you again."

"Likewise," said Jill. "I'm sorry I skipped out on the Dueling Club so many times last September."

"Call it my fault for being a bitch," said Jocasta.

"You didn't know."

"Oh yes I did! I've been wondering for the past three years why you two never made your relationship official -- "

"Because we didn't start it until October of last year? Because you pushed the big red lever that says 'do not push' at the worst possible moment?"

"Right, right. I thought I was making fun of an established relationship instead of a developing one because I'd barely ever spoken to you. It appears that I am an idiot despite my talent."

"You learned," said Jill. "And you have me now."

"I do indeed." Jill sighed. "Ah, to lie in your arms. I wonder how many dream of it? And then a little bird told me I had the chance, and my wildest dream came true. And yet...if the matter had been left there...I would still have been less than content."

`_◊◊ YOU GOT TO DATE YOUR FAVORITE DUELING OPPONENT. WAS THAT NOT ENOUGH?◊◊_`

Jocasta huffed. “It was enough! I was satisfied! Yet not satisfied. Not certain. Not one hundred percent. I could fall asleep in Jill’s arms and feel safe for a time but...I still had awful thoughts in my mind, shameful doubts. She made me feel safe from those who would do me harm, and yet...I was worried that I might hurt _her_. And that upon such a mistake, she would decide I was too much to handle, and distance herself from me."

"Despite how much I need you," said Jill.

"Precisely. I was discounting your fortitude. And yet -- here is the important part, Sparrow. Think about what it means, that I could have reason to believe I would pose a danger to Jillian Patil, of all people."

`_◊◊ DANGER?◊◊_`

"As in, both physically and mentally."

`_◊◊ AH. THEN YOU WOULD HAVE REASON TO BE TERRIFIED OF YOURSELF.◊◊_`

"Precisely. I was worried that I was putting Jill in a dangerous position by getting so close. There were times when I felt like I did not at all deserve to be near her, any closer than the length of a dueling stage. That if I were truly dangerous, then I did not deserve to be in her presence at all."

`_◊◊ DESERVE? OH, MY DEAR. WHO WOULD I BE, WHO WOULD JILL BE, IF EITHER OF US SPOKE OF YOU AS DESERVING OR UNDESERVING? WHO WOULD WE BE IF WE THOUGHT WE HAD THE RIGHT TO DECIDE THAT?◊◊_`

Jocasta said nothing, but glanced at Jill.

“Someone you must never meet,” said Jill. “And if we were to act like him, then we would most certainly not deserve Jocasta.”

“Yes. That figure. Well.” Jocasta shivered.

“Pray continue, my dear.”

“That is just the thing,” said Jocasta. “Before my mortal peril, I worried about continuing on the course I had found. I worried about being able to tell Jill everything, and about what might happen when I did. But then Jill dragged my shiny green arse away from certain doom...and then -- Jill, do you mind if I tell Sparrow what we talked about in the Hospital Wing?"

"We spoke of many things I would not reveal," said Jill. "Your troubles and mine alike. But as for the main thing, I will say it as I said it before. No matter what horrors lurk in your past, no matter what you fear of yourself, I will always be there for you."

"As I will be there for you," said Jocasta. "And that was the final piece that fell into place, Sparrow. Why I cling to Jill now. She does not flinch, even when she knows all of me."

"And Sparrow will always be here for both of us," said Jill.

`_◊◊ HOW COULD I POSSIBLY RESIST?◊◊_`

"Isn't that just what you do?" said Jocasta. "You stand sturdy against all. No matter what comes." She kissed Sparrow on the forehead. "Perhaps I should think that, if I were to tell you the extent of my troubles, you would not flinch either. And yet -- who would I be, if I were to put you in such a position? What if your heart breaks, when you know what I went through?"

`_◊◊ TRUTH HURTS. BUT I WILL REMAIN AT YOUR SIDE. I SAY TO YOU AS I SAID TO JILL. WE WILL WORK THROUGH THIS TOGETHER. WHENEVER YOU ARE READY.◊◊_`

"When we are ready," said Jill.

"That could take a while," said Jocasta.

`_◊◊ I CAN WAIT. AND WHATEVER FIRE LEAPS FROM YOUR EYES, I CAN SURVIVE IT.◊◊_`

Jill and Jocasta exchanged worried glances.

"That might not be true," said Jill.

`_◊◊ BUT JOCSTA CAN SURVIVE?◊◊_`

"I know how to run," said Jocasta. "I know how to dodge. But you? You stand sturdy. Solid as a stone wall. You will not yield for anything. So if there is something that can overwhelm you, after all, then by the time you run it would be too late."

`_◊◊ WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE THAT DANGEROUS?◊◊_`

"Me," said Jill. "And many other people. I will tell you this much. Firstly, the details of Jocasta's past, as she has described them to me, are the sort of matters that one would keep hidden even from a true love, for fear of breaking their heart. That is one way the truth could hurt you. Secondly -- when Jocasta described the matter to me, I ran to the deeper tunnels below the dungeons. And there are sections of those tunnels that are now igneous rock. Some of it is still cooling. Do you understand what I mean?"

`_◊◊ JILL, WHAT THE HELL.◊◊_`

"That's exactly what I said."

"There are some things you must run from," said Jocasta. "Even you, Sparrow."

`_◊◊ WHAT IF I CAN'T? WHAT IF THERE ARE PEOPLE IN THE WAY WHO CAN'T ESCAPE? I WOULD GLADLY GIVE MY LIFE TO BUY THEM TIME.◊◊_`

"That is what I fear," said Jill. "That the very reason I love you is the reason I would lose you. How awful it would be, were it my fault!"

Sparrow hugged Jill about the middle. `_◊◊ DON'T BE SO SCARED. I KNOW YOU AND YOU KNOW YOU. YOU KNOW HOW TO CONTAIN YOURSELF WHEN YOU MUST. ESPECIALLY WHEN I'M HERE. I BET YOU MELTED THOSE WALLS BECAUSE I WASN'T THERE.◊◊_`

"You might be right," said Jill, as she embraced Sparrow in turn.

"Well then," said Jocasta." We surely must work through this after all. So, Sparrow, I will tell you the details of my past someday soon. I promise you that. But not now. Not today."

“Today is for fun,” said Jill. “Or it was. Before we got all dramatic.”

`_◊◊ I’D SAY YOU HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO BE DRAMATIC. BUT AH, SUCH THINGS WEIGH HEAVY ON THE HEART, DO THEY NOT? IF WE WOULD LIVE, WE MUST BE LIGHT, WHEN WE CAN.◊◊_`

“Would you prefer I kiss you more lightly?” said Jocasta.

`_◊◊ CERTAINLY NOT.◊◊_`

“Ah ha. Well then. I’ll just – oh, dash it all, I think we have a visitor.”

For the door was creaking open.

There in the doorway stood three figures, shadowy silhouettes against the dimness of the hall. One tall, one medium, one short.

Sparrow was about ready to grab her wand and cast a shield spell, but then the tallest spoke in a familiar voice. The voice of Percival Bulstrode. “Hello? Is someone in here?”

`_◊◊ WHAT DO YOU THINK, FRIENDS, SHOULD WE GREET HIM?◊◊_`

`_• NO, LET HIM PASS. •_`

“Lumos!” said Percival. His wand lit up the three girls. “Goodness heavens,” said Percival, “it’s Jocasta Carrow, cheating on her one true love with the scurrilous Sparrow Jones! Scoundrel! Wastrel! Oh hi, Jill.”

“Looks like fun,” said a younger boy next to Percival, a first-year Slytherin by the name of Maledictus Bulstrode. “Can I get in on that?”

“First of all you’re too young,” said Percival, “secondly – ”

Two sets of eyes stared at him, one glowing red, the other glowing green.

“I think that means no,” said the boy to the other side of Percival. “Hard luck, Mally my lad.”

The glow faded.

“Sorry about that,” said Jill. “You really don’t want to get involved in what we’ve got going right now.”

“But Sparrow does?” said Maledictus.

“She can survive better than you,” said Jocasta.

“What in the hell do you – ”

“Apologies for the intrusion,” said Percival. “Sparrow, I did wish to speak to you regarding certain matters, but first let me introduce my brother Maledictus – ” he gestured to Maledictus, who waved – “and to my brother Bertrand – ”

“We have met,” said Bertrand. “Bit of a bold move there at the Yule Ball, but I suppose that giant Gryffindor girl set some precedent. You’re much easier to dance with than her.”

Percival. The fellow Sparrow had rejected and slandered. Whatever thoughts she had before he arrived, they were crowded out by the memory of that moment. She rose from where she lay, and stood before the boys. She nodded to Bertrand, then bowed before Percival.

`_◊◊ MY APOLOGIES AS WELL, MY DEAR PERCIVAL.◊◊_`

Percival looked around. “Who speaks?”

`_◊◊ IT’S ME. IT’S THE MADGIRL. IT’S SPARROW. I STILL DON’T KNOW EXACTLY HOW I’M DOING THIS BUT…THAT DAY, IN THE HALL, I DID NOT TRUST YOU. IN SOME WAYS I STILL DON’T, NOR SHOULD I BE TRUSTING MANY PEOPLE RIGHT NOW. IF I LET TOO MANY PEOPLE INTO MY LIFE, THEY MIGHT GET HURT. BUT…I WASN’T THINKING OF YOUR SAFETY, THEN. OR YOUR REPUTATION. I WAS JUST SCARED OF YOUR HOUSE. OF ALL THINGS, YOUR HOUSE. AND YET HERE I AM SNOGGING JOCASTA CARROW. WHAT RANK HYPOCRISY, ON MY PART! AND WORSE PERFIDY, FOR ME TO BELIEVE IN SHARP DISTINCTIONS BETWEEN HOUSES AT ALL!◊◊_`

“Are you hearing any of this?” said Percival. “Is anyone else hearing this?”

“Nope,” said Bertrand.

“Nothing at all,” said Maledictus.

“My ears must be blocked,” said Jocasta.

“It’s between you two,” said Jill. “Have at it.”

`_◊◊ IS THERE ANY WAY I CAN ATONE FOR MY TRANSGRESSION?◊◊_`

“You could let me help you with this whole Statute of Secrecy business. My offer stands.”

`_◊◊ I FEAR THAT POSSIBILITY. IF IT MEANS PEOPLE ARE TAKING ME SERIOUSLY AFTER ALL. SOMEONE MIGHT DECIDE I AM A THREAT, AND ACT ACCORDINGLY. I WOULD PREFER TO REMAIN A DISREGARDED MADGIRL FOR THE TIME BEING, IF MAKING A CLEAR MOVE WOULD PUT ANYONE HERE IN DANGER.◊◊_`

“You might have done that already,” said Percival. “Considering how loud you’ve been about the business, I would say that retreating and hiding behind a reputation right now is just ceding the initiative. But we can discuss that matter later. I didn’t say _how_ I wanted to help you.”

`_◊◊ THAT IS FAIR ENOUGH. AND I AM SORRY FOR PUTTING YOU IN DANGER FROM THE RIGHTEOUS WRATH OF MY PEERS, BY PRETENDING YOU HAD CHEATED ON YOUR GIRLFRIEND.◊◊_`

“Oh!” said Percival, eyes widening. “That’s, um – ” He looked away for a moment. “No trouble. Ask Wilhelmina Burke about that matter.”

“Can we get going?” said Bertrand. “You’re the one who wanted us to get up this early, so let’s not waste any time before I fall back asleep.”

“Now there’s a question,” said Jocasta. “What on earth are _you_ doing here at this hour?”

“Getting the grand tour,” said a familiar voice, and Professor Warbeck appeared behind Percival. “Well, perhaps not the grandest tour. That would require a map, and extra paper for when we run off the map. But they did ask me to take them as far as we dared go, and I know how to open that particular wall. Would you be willing to accompany us, before breakfast? Safety in numbers down here.”

Jill looked disturbed. “Safety against what?”

“Hush,” said Warbeck. “Listen.”

All the children fell silent. For a while, there was no sound, but the plink of water dripping somewhere nearby. Then came a low whisper, as if from everywhere, and nowhere.`WHO INTRUDES, WHO INTRUDES. HM HM HM. WELL, COME THEN. THESE COLD BONES HAVE BEEN…LONGING FOR COMPANY.◊◊ `

``

``

“I vote no,” said Jocasta.

“That sounds precisely like the voice that called me,” said Jill. "I must know what it desires."

Sparrow shook her head.

“My dear,” said Jocasta, as she took Jill by the arm, “Do not leave us here in the dark! Oh, we shall be attacked by vampires and nightmares!” She took Jill by the arm.

"Consider it this way," said Jill. "This is a chance for you to learn how to let go of me sometimes, as Sparrow has had to learn how to let go of her wand. Will you take that chance?"

"As long as you are warning me ahead of time," said Jocasta.

"Very well," said Jill. "Come on, then, men, let us be off!” And the Bulstrode boys were off with Jill and Professor Warbeck before Sparrow could make any further objections.

Jocasta linked her arm with Sparrow’s and said, “Of course we are following, yes?”

`_◊◊ DIDN’T YOU JUST VOTE NO?◊◊_`

“Ahem. Of course we are sticking close by our large scary girlfriend, yes?”

`_◊◊ WE OUGHT TO BE PRETENDING THAT WE DIDN'T SNEAK OUT OF OUR DORMS AT FIVE IN THE MORNING.◊◊_`

Jocasta pouted at Sparrow and put on her best puppy-dog-eyed face.

`_◊◊ YOU SAID WE WERE IN A PRECARIOUS POSITION.◊◊_`

“But Sparoooooow…”

`_◊◊ YOU CAN SEE YOUR GIRLFRIEND LATER. BESIDES, YOU’VE GOT A SPARE RIGHT HERE.◊◊_`

“I want two.”

`_◊◊ AREN’T YOU GREEDY.◊◊_`

“I suppose I could say the same for you! Oh, very well. You probably need to be able to explain Jill’s absence to your own prefect anyway.”

The two girls rose, and exited the dim cell, walking as swiftly and silently as they could in the direction of the upward stairs, hoping nobody else would wander down here and ask them what they were doing.

That was until Jocasta stopped short, a look of horror on her face.

`_◊◊ WHAT IS IT?◊◊_`

“You don’t hear it? Come on.” She grabbed Sparrow by the hand and fairly dragged her away from the dungeon’s exit, back towards the cell, ignoring Sparrow’s protests.

`_• CEASE! LISTEN! •_`

Listen to what?

But then she heard it – not in the distance with her ears, but faintly in her mind. Two things. The same low voice as before, and surrounding it, Jill’s screams.

In an instant the two girls dashed towards the stairway into the deeper dungeons, wands at the ready, fears of the worst driving them into a frantic sprint.

And yet, upon reaching the bottom of the stairwell they found Jill there – whole of limb as she had been before entering. Her only sign of physical damage was her hair, singed at the ends. Even her school robes were not marred.

Beside her were the three Bulstrode brothers, looking quite a bit more singed, and Professor Warbeck, looking equally injured, and not a little embarrassed.

“Interesting,” said Jocasta, in a low tone Sparrow had never heard from her before. “It almost looks as though you all picked a fight with Jillian Patil and lost. I am tempted to finish the job.” She raised her wand. Her eyes began to glow green.

Four faces looked horrified as their owners began to back away. Only one remained passive.

Four faces relaxed slightly as a glowing translucent yellow wall sprang up between Jill and Jocasta. One face still remained passive.

Jocasta’s face turned from cold fury to exasperation.

`_• LET ME THROUGH, SPARROW. THERE ARE SOME LADS HERE THAT DESERVE RECOMPENSE. •_`

In Sparrow’s head, Jocasta’s words echoed oddly, each word sounding as if were spoken by two people, one of whom sounded furious, the other of whom sounded terrified.

`_◊◊ UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES WHATSOEVER WILL I LET YOU HARM ONE OF MY FELLOW STUDENTS.◊◊_`

`_• OH, EVEN IF THEY’VE HARMED ONE OF YOUR FAVORITES? •_`

`_◊◊ I AM ASSUMING THERE IS A PROPER EXPLANATION TO BE HAD.◊◊_`

`_• GODDAMIT, IF YOU DON’T DROP THIS SHIELD I VERY WELL MAY BREAK IT. •_`

`_††††† JOCASTA! FOR GOD’S SAKE, GIRL, HOLD YOUR FIRE!  THIS ISN’T THEIR FAULT!††††† _`

Jocasta lowered her wand.

`_• EXPLAIN. •_`

“I picked a fight with the walls,” said Jill. “These people got caught up in it. We were having a good time before the place decided to get nasty.”

`_• I SEE. THEN PERHAPS I SHOULD BE NASTY TO THIS PLACE IN RETURN. •_`

`_††††† LEAVE BE. †††††_`

`_• I CAN’T EVEN AVENGE YOU? •_`

`_††††† I WOULD NOT HAVE YOU SUPPORT MY OWN IMPULSES, EVEN IN THIS CASE. WHAT DO YOU THINK THAT WOULD DO TO SPARROW? ††††† _`

Jocasta let out a long breath. Her eyes stopped glowing. `• ALRIGHT. SPARROW, PLEASE LOWER THE BARRIER.• `

``

``

`_◊◊ I’M STILL WAITING FOR AN EXPLANATION HERE.◊◊_`

`_• AND I’M SEEING THREE BOYS WHO CLEARLY HAVE SECOND-DEGREE BURN MARKS ON THEIR SKIN SO IF YOU WOULD PLEASE LOWER THE BARRIER NOW? HERE.•_` Jocasta slapped her wand into Sparrow’s hand. ` •CALL THAT A HOSTAGE OR A TOKEN OF TRUST. I’M LAYING DOWN MY ARMS HERE, JUST PLEASE LET ME THROUGH.• `

``

``

Sparrow had half a mind to ask what Jocasta was going to do without a wand, but she decided to let it go. The barrier vanished.

Through this entire conversation, the Bulstrode boys, along with Professor Warbeck, had gone from relaxation to confusion. It must have appeared to them as though the three girls were just standing there, gesturing at each other for no reason, as if they were either into theater, or were mad. Either way, when the barrier vanished, Percival and Bertrand ran to hide behind pillars, leaving Maledictus there alone.

Strange, that he should remain there while Jocasta ran towards him. Perhaps whatever he had seen was worse.

Jocasta took his hand without asking. He shook his head and appeared to realize where he was. He looked as though he were desperate to pull away. Yet, as Jocasta held her gaze fixed upon his hand, and as she muttered words under her breath, the burns upon it slowly faded. Maledictus finally relaxed.

“Goodness gracious,” said Percival, as he cautiously emerged from behind a pillar. “If my eyes do not deceive me, that’s wandless magic. I thought that sort of thing was wild and untamable. The property of the savage depths of the American wastes. And yet Miss Carrow here – ”

“Practice,” said Jocasta. “Years of it. And this is the best I can do so far, so don’t go singing my praises. It’s not like I can set broken bones or any big stuff without a wand. Also don’t let Cormac McKinnon hear you calling the Americas savage, he’s got family from there.” She turned to Bertrand. “Lad, you look like you’ve got some burns as well. Come here.”

“I’m fine, miss, really – ”

“For pity’s sake,” said one of the pillars, as it resolved into the form of Professor Warbeck, “don’t allow yourself to ignore an injury, master Bulstrode.”

“But she can do wandless magic! She’s not disarmed after all!”

Jocasta huffed. “And if I was going to burn you to ashes, don’t you think I would have done it to Maledictus by now, hmmmmm?”

“Well maybe you were poisoning him – ”

“Come on,” said Percival, and he dragged Bertrand away, Maledictus eagerly following. “No sense casting suspicion if it means you’re ignoring an injury.” He turned back for a moment, and said, “We’re off to the Hospital Wing, Jocasta. Don’t worry, the boys will be fine.”

Jocasta nodded once.

The boys ascended the stairs and were soon out of sight.

Professor Warbeck sighed. “This all was…quite unfortunate. I am sorry, Miss Patil. I should not have led you into this place.”

“I blame myself,” said Jill. “For getting angry. I think I was the one to provoke the walls, and then…well, it all hardly bears repeating. I was the target, that’s the important thing. I think you would have had a fine time if not for me.”

“Would we?” said the Professor. “I don’t know. Maybe what we saw was…I mean, you’re the fireball witch, correct? So if we saw flames, they were because of you, but if I went down here alone, perhaps I would see, I don’t know, terribly-done algebraic theorems. Or if it was Percival Bulstrode, maybe it would be his father scolding him for being irresponsible. I don’t know.”

“Are you saying this place is full of boggarts?”

“Didn’t you hear me trying the riddikulus spell? It didn’t work at all. Oh, who knows! I shall have to have a further look at this place when I can bring professor Budge along. Or maybe the Headmistress. I think the walls would not dare to try any nonsense with her. But as for what we saw…I am not exactly sure what I was seeing in those flames. Something like a lion? And a house?”

“I’m sorry,” said Jill. “I could explain what those images meant, but that is a matter for private conversations.” She shuddered. “Preferably in a sunlit room.”

`_◊◊ JILL, WHAT ON EARTH HAPPENED TO YOU? ARE YOU OKAY?◊◊_`

`_††††† I AM SORRY, MY FRIEND. THIS IS NOT A MATTER FOR EVEN_`` YOUR EARS. YOU SEE NOW, WHAT WE MEANT? ABOUT KEEPING DOORS CLOSED? WHATEVER I MET DOWN HERE TRIED TO FORCE MINE OPEN. YOU CAN IMAGINE THAT I WOULD HAVE NO WISH TO SPEAK OF THE MATTER FURTHER, FOR THE TIME BEING. ††††† `

``

``

`_◊◊ THEN I WILL NOT INQUIRE FURTHER. I WILL WAIT UNTIL YOU ARE READY TO TELL ME.◊◊_`

`_††††† I HOPE THAT SOMEDAY I WILL BE.†††††_`

…

That afternoon, after the day’s classes were over, the children met Professor Longbottom in his office and gave their week’s report. Violet and Cormac, for their parts, had been practicing the Growth Charm, and had already managed to reliably increase the size of a quill by fifty percent without having it disintegrate, but had become thoroughly distracted by the details of the Goblin Wars. Professor Longbottom was faintly amused to think that anyone would be.

Miranda had been quite distracted by her own experiments, but had managed to throw together a Calming Draught that morning. Longbottom had been meaning to ask why she had rushed into the greenhouses and out without saying a word.

Sparrow had been attempting to cast the Locomotion Charm silently since yesterday, and, having got the basics, had attempted to move on to the Vanishing spell, with the result that her favorite pair of socks was still missing. This particular news caused Longbottom to wonder if Sparrow’s reputation for poor wandwork was simply a matter of her getting complacent with a single subject area over three years, because a Sixth-year student hearing Sparrow speak in such a casual manner of silently casting a tricky spell would wonder if she was boasting.

In response, Sparrow jerked her thumb at Jill, who retorted that she couldn’t possibly be more than a catalyst.

And as for Jill and Jocasta, they remained thoroughly distracted by each other, enough so that Jocasta would have had little to show if not for Miranda teaching her about the Fanged Geranium, and Jill’s primary breakthrough was in learning silent spellcasting alongside Sparrow. Longbottom reminded the two that, while Wizards in love could prove mighty when they fought side-by-side, both of them had to learn proper wandwork first.

So their directive for the week was for each child to narrow their focus to their areas of expertise, for, while there were many weeks left to study, it did not do to waste any of them.

Sparrow was not sure if she ought to feel sheepish, but evidently Jill and Jocasta did, because they were first out of the room. It was tempting to run after them, though these days a few words of reassurance Sent their way could travel much faster. And Sparrow wished to speak with Professor Longbottom in private, anyway.

So, after all her friends had gone, Sparrow remained sitting in her chair.

“Yes?” said Professor Longbottom. “What is it, Miss Jones?”

`_◊◊ I WORRY.◊◊_`

“Don’t we all, these days. But I assume you have a specific worry? Something I could help you with?”

`_◊◊ I DON’T KNOW. JILL AND JOCASTA HAVE PAIN IN THEIR PAST THAT THEY CANNOT REVEAL TO ME. I CAN BE AS PATIENT AS I WILL, AND YET…I WONDER WHAT I CAN DO TO HELP THEM, WITHOUT A FULL UNDERSTANDING OF THEIR GRIEFS.◊◊_`

“Yet another burden you would shoulder?”

`_◊◊ THEY TAKE SUCH BURDEN UPON THEMSELVES ALREADY. I WOULD AT LEAST LIGHTEN THEIR LOAD.◊◊_`

“Well then…” the Professor drummed his fingers on the table. “I would say that they ought to be willing to speak with me, until such time as the school can hire a professional therapist. Which is proving difficult. I have made my enquires to Saint Mungo's and received no response. McGonagall said she would look for one when she is in London, but I can hardly ask her to do more than she is doing."

`_◊◊ SHE TOLD ME THE WIZARDING WORLD HAD NONE. AND YET IF THE SCHOOL HIRED A MUGGLE THERAPIST -- HOW WOULD THAT EVEN WORK?◊◊_`

"It wouldn't," said the Professor, and sighed. "There's your Statute of Secrecy for you. Perhaps your girlfriends will need to speak with me, then. At the very least I could help them understand how to keep living after the burden of fear is passed."

`_◊◊ BUT...WHAT IF EITHER OF THEM EXPLODES LIKE YOU WERE WORRYING ABOUT? COULD YOU SURVIVE?◊◊_`

"Well, I could. Perhaps my office would not. But I think that I can provide an environment that feels safe enough for them that they would not explode."

`_◊◊ I CAN TRY TO DO THE SAME.◊◊_`

"I should think that you could, in your own way. And yet...as I said, you take so much upon your shoulders. Recall the time that you held up those falling rocks -- "

`_◊◊ YES YES I REMEMBER. I WAS THERE, AFTER ALL.◊◊_`

"And you broke under that weight."

`_◊◊ MY DEAREST FRIENDS ARE A BURDEN? IS THAT WHAT YOU MEAN?◊◊_`

"No, no, what I mean is -- you would gladly take on more than you could bear. And for the ones you love, you would not even hesitate. You would go far beyond what anyone thought was the limit of your responsibilities, as you have sought to do for the world itself. Do not feel that you have to take such responsibility, Sparrow. Not to that level. Goodness knows my dear Hannah would have had quite the trouble helping me, in the years just after the war, if our surviving friends had not been there to call upon. Sometimes doing what you can for people means letting other people help. Do you understand?"

`_◊◊ I THINK SO. I DO HAVE OTHER FRIENDS, AFTER ALL.◊◊_`

"And you have adults with greater experience to draw upon, some of whom enjoy speaking with you."

`_◊◊ AND SOME WHO DO NOT, IF I AM CORRECT ABOUT PROFESSOR CLEARWATER.◊◊_`

"Ah, well. Perhaps Cordelia is just bad at expressing her affection in any other way than trying to help you, so she works very hard and then beats herself up when she fails. Gee, I think I know someone like that. Have you learned how to delegate when it comes to aiding your fellow students?"

`_◊◊ OH, OF COURSE.◊◊_`

"Then you can see how you might have to do the same for two in particular. And I would urge you to consider calling on whoever you can, whoever might be available, for the situations you can't handle. You did precisely that, when Jocasta was in grave peril. Perhaps someone a little more self-centered might have tried to do everything themselves instead of call upon the school ghosts. As it is...you may wind up having to call upon many people, for none of us are always available as a professional therapist might be."

`_◊◊ BUT WHAT CAN I DO? HOW CAN I BE A REASSURING PRESENCE TO THE PEOPLE I LOVE, IN THE MOMENTS WHEN HELP IS NOT THERE? WHAT CAN I SAY TO SOMEONE I FIND CRYING IN THE NIGHT?◊◊_`

"Say? Well now. Perhaps nothing. But what you can do -- you can offer a shoulder to cry on. You can listen to them speak, when they are ready to speak. You can listen actively, without judgment or scorn. In such moments, one does not need a savior offering to fix everything, as much as they need the strength to go on. And, on an active basis...try to make it clear, among your friends, that keeping each other safe and whole is more important than casting stern judgment. I survived because my friends stood by my side, all personal griefs aside. I would say the same will be true for each of the people you love. Not merely because each of you is talented on your own, but because you stand by each other, because you love each other."

`_◊◊ THAT CERTAINLY MAKES SENSE TO MY USUAL WAY OF THINKING. BUT IT SOUNDS ALL A BIT HIGH-HANDED WHEN IT COMES TO COMFORTING SOMEONE IN THE MOMENT.◊◊_`

"Ah. Yes." Professor Longbottom shook his head as if to clear out stray thoughts. "Sorry. Easy for me to get carried away by old ways of thinking. In the moment, I would say, the key is to lay yourself aside for the moment. Remember -- if you love someone, you help them survive, no questions asked, no demands made, save those that are towards keeping them alive. You help them and never mind why. Because love is a gift, not a demand. I would ask if you understand. But considering how much you used to throw your shield around, at a moment's notice, to protect people you know nothing of -- I would say you understand that part well enough. The hard part for you will be coming down from your high horse. Do you think you can do that?"

`_◊◊ I WILL TRY.◊◊_`

"Then I think you will do well for the people you love. Now, I have my papers to attend to. Was there anything else you wished to ask?"

Sparrow shook her head, and left the office without another word.

...

That evening, the dueling club had an unexpected surprise, for Jocasta Carrow was back to give a demonstration – with Sparrow Jones, of all people. Whether it was a duel or a game, the students were undecided, for Sparrow was levitating heavy blocks, and then tossing them at Jocasta with the Locomotion Charm. In return, Jocasta used these blocks to practice her Vanishing Spell.

“Seems a bit boring,” said Belladonna Yamakeg, as she stepped back from the stage.

“I will admit it is less flashy,” said Jocasta.

At first the effort was merely amusing for being halting. Neither girl had completely perfected control of their chosen spell. There were times when Sparrow could not move the block forward at all, or she would move it too fast, and there were times when a block would refuse to vanish, and Jocasta had to dodge, or, as it happened, use a locomotion spell of her own to shove the block out of the way.

“Seems a bit reckless,” said Belladonna.

“Quite,” said Jill beside her. “But Jocasta has always been reckless, and only once come near to great harm for it. She will be fine.”

“Sparrow’s almost got the hang of the locomotion spell,” said Violet. “I didn’t expect her to pick up on it that fast.”

“She’s bound and determined,” said Jill. “Like any of us, I suppose.”

The game of block-tossing went on another ten minutes, then Jocasta and Sparrow switched places. This time things were even more awkward, for Jocasta only managed a few times to make any block move, and when Sparrow had to vanish any block, she only managed one.

Sparrow was getting increasingly frustrated, her frustration matched by Jocasta at the other end of the stage, and the crowd was beginning to giggle. It was easy to give up in that moment, to bow to the crowd and thank them for coming, like a cat who licks itself after a clumsy fall.

But one voice through the whole crowd convinced them otherwise.

`_††††† TRY IT ONE MORE TIME. YOU CAN DO IT. BOTH OF YOU.††††† _`

At this, the faces of both girls brightened, and they went at it again. Suddenly blocks were flying towards Sparrow at high speed, and vanishing before they got there, for the most part, although any block that did make it through tended to hit a shield that was raised faster than blinking. Jocasta picked up speed. Sparrow found herself faltering again. Her shield was not lowered, now, and she vanished no more blocks.

“Don’t hide,” said Jocasta. “You’ve got to have more variety, girl.”

`_◊◊ SORRY◊◊_`, said Sparrow. `_I THINK I'VE HAD ENOUGH. I THINK WE MANAGED TO GET THE HANG OF THINGS.◊◊_`

Jocasta bowed, and stepped off the platform, Sparrow likewise. A couple other students, a third-year Slytherin named Duplicita Heaumont and a third-year Gryffindor named Regulus Smith, stepped up to the platform and tried to do what the first two girls had been doing. For Duplicita’s part she managed to get the locomotion charm working quickly; Regulus wound up with the more difficult spell at first, and out of ten blocks he only vanished one. Bit by bit the crowd dwindled.

Four students stayed to watch as long as seemed respectful. Then they departed the dueling club, heading for the library where Miranda and Cormac were studying.

“Have we figured out how to get the dew?” said Jill. “It’s not like there’s much grass around here.”

“Indeed not,” said Jocasta, “nor is there at the Carrow house. My father got his by sitting in a broom and scraping the underside of a bridge. Only way to guarantee the dew had never been touched. Do we have a bridge?”

“Just the one,” said Violet. “Bit dangerous. It’s supposed to shift on Sunday, if my calculations are correct. We’ll want to go gathering dew tomorrow evening.”

“I can do it,” said Jill.

“Let me have a little fun,” said Jocasta. “I like flying.”

“You’re terrible at it.”

“I’m _wonderful_ at it! Except on a broom. Although lately I suppose I’m terrible in general. Ah, here’s the library.”

Within, at a long table, there sat Cormac and Miranda, both of them with their heads buried in books. Miranda’s books were on herbology. Cormac’s books were all about wandlore again.

“Looks like someone has got off-track,” said Jocasta.

“What are you,” said Cormac, “a professor? I got the color-change spell working. Watch.” He waved his wand at the table and it became ebony. “Whoops, that’s the switching spell.”

“I could hardly bear to keep him away from wandlore,” said Miranda. “What’s up?”

“Checking in,” said Jill. “Also, we need to talk about getting dew from the underside of a bridge at midnight. Can you fly?”

“I have tried,” said Miranda. “But, you know, no matter how hard I flap my arms – ”

“I mean on a broom.”

“Oh! I can do that. So can you, from what I’ve heard. Could you not simply waltz into the broom closet and get a broom, and do the job yourself?”

Jill shook her head.

“Foxtrot then?”

“Suspended from classes means I’m suspended from the Quidditch team. Couldn’t exactly tell the captain why, could I? So I don’t have a key to the closet anymore. The most I could do is lend you my broom but that’s a flat no because it’s MY broom. Mine. And I’ll be on it anyway, because I want to get this done fast. I’m just trying to figure out if you can help gather.”

“Hopefully I’m not the only one helping,” said Miranda. “Violet, what about – ”

“I’m out like a light at eleven these days.”

“Cormac – ”

“Ten.”

“Sparrow?”

`_◊◊ YOU NEED SOMEONE ON SOLID GROUND TO KEEP AN EYE ON YOUR SAFETY.◊◊_`

“Damn.”

“Looks like it’s up to you,” said Jocasta. “Sorry, young bean.”

“Hardly,” said Miranda. “I have no broom of my own. So I would need access to the broom closet. If I recall correctly, the school still has one of the prototype double-seaters, of the sort that only moves when four hands are on the stick. But how to get in –”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” said Jocasta. “The lock isn’t even magically warded.”

“Right,” said Jill, giving Jocasta a pointed look. “And you should know. Nearly cost Gryffindor the game, that one time. I shall never forgive you.”

“I hardly deserve forgiveness,” said Jocasta. “Steal a long-broom, then, is that it? Seems simple.”

`_◊◊ NO.◊◊_`

“No what?” said Jocasta.

`_◊◊ WE’RE GOING TO ASK PERMISSION FROM THE HEADMISTRESS TO ACCESS THE CLOSET. I HAVE BEEN DISHONEST ENOUGH FOR A WHILE.◊◊_`

“All this asking permission!” said Jocasta. “Instead of just going where we will. I guess that’s what I get for dating two Hufflepuffs.” She sat down at the table next to Cormac as the other students found extra chairs. “Wandlore,” she said. “What are you looking for in this book?”

“Anything about nonmagical cores,” said Cormac. “But, there’s nothing.”

“Of course there’s nothing,” said Jocasta. “You might as well put a wet noodle in a crossbow. Magic does have limits, my friend.”

“But what are they?” said Cormac. “I don’t think we’ve got even close to the edge yet.”

“Easy there,” said Miranda. “You’re jumping the gun by a few years, aren’t you?”

“So am I,” said Violet. “Found anything about Wizard Spaceships yet? No? Then we’ll have to make one. And Miranda, you wanted to cure lycanthropy, did you not?”

“I still do. Someday.”

“And I thought Sparrow was ambitious,” said Jocasta. “Alright, Mister Experimental Wandcrafter. Where are you going to get the wandwood to start practicing, hm?”

Cormac sank in his chair. “I don’t know. The ministry charges a high price for its supply. It’s not like there’s any other place to find wandwood besides the protected groves. Is there?”

“I don’t know,” said Jill. “If anyone knows it would be Mr. Ollivander, over in Hogsmeade. Maybe we can go there and ask him.”

“I’d like that,” said Cormac. He leaned over to Sparrow. “But we would have to _ask permission,_ right?”

`_◊◊ AND NOT GO JAUNTING OFF LIKE WE OWN THIS PLACE.◊◊_`

“You’re no fun,” said Jocasta.

`_◊◊ EXCUSE ME? IF I WEREN’T AROUND YOU’D STILL BE STUCK IN CLASS WRITING ESSAYS.◊◊_`

“That’s a fair point,” said Jill, “Although I’ve never heard of anyone citing an indefinite suspension as a net positive. We ought to be studying the stuff we’re missing, besides the O.W.L. questions.”

“Already did,” said Cormac. “Honestly, we go way too slowly in our classes around here. I can’t believe we spent three weeks on the levitation charm.”

“Nerd.”

“Proud of it,” said Cormac. “I wonder why I didn’t go into Ravenclaw. Could have met Violet earlier. Well.” He thumped the book closed. “It’s late enough, and if we’re going to be able to speak to Ollivander tomorrow we need to catch McGonagall before she leaves tomorrow. And her office hours end in a few minutes. Come on.” He rose and left the library, not stopping to see if anyone was following. The remaining children scampered after him.

…

McGonagall’s response to both parts of the request was to glance up at Cormac, fix him with an unsettling stare, and nod once.

The children beetled out of the office before the Headmistress could glance at the rest of them.

Hogsmeade on the morrow, then, and bridge in the evening.


	30. Hogsmudge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What in the Sam Hill happened to Hogsmeade?

“Been a couple years since I went to Hogsmeade,” said Cormac, as he turned back towards his friends. “Never did get to see that tree Mr. Ollivander made for himself.”

Six students strode along the muddy road, down the glen towards Hogsmeade. The sky today was overcast, with some breaks in the clouds where sunlight streamed down, casting spotlights upon the scattered brush. It was beautiful, in its own way, though stark and bleak all the same.

Five of the students kept fairly closely together, gathered around Sparrow. The road to Hogsmeade was safe, as much as anything was these days, yet in the barren landscape they clung to each other because that was all they had to hold on to. Only Cormac kept ahead. Ollivander was his goal, after all, and whatever came from that would be Cormac's journey, no matter how many shared it with him. Sparrow could only hope that he would not walk it alone as he was walking alone now.

As they began to ascend a ridge, a curious mass of green began to show just above its crest.

“Do mine eyes deceive me,” said Jocasta, “or is that a tree up ahead?”

“I’m seeing it too,” said Jill. “Anyone else?”

“Shouldn’t be a surprise,” said Cormac. “Ollivander’s house is pretty big. Wait…” he squinted. “That’s not Ollivander’s tree. It’s closer. I can make out the leaves.”

“And it _has_ leaves,” said Miranda. “Entirely out of season.”

“I’ve been up on a broom many times,” said Jill, “and I’ve seen Ollivander’s house many times. I was up on a broom yesterday, and I saw this ridge. This tree was not there yesterday.”

The children began to creep forward a bit more cautiously, as if whatever made the tree was still around. And yet, Cormac far ahead of them seemed as unbothered as ever.

Until he crested the ridge, and cried aloud. In the next moment he dashed forward, passing over the ridge and out of sight.

“Was that a good cry or a bad cry?” said Jill.

“Good,” said Violet. “Although, dear Cormac might not actually know if he’s running into danger. We might be running into it ourselves.”

“The mighty Sparrow can protect us from anything,” said Jocasta.

`_◊◊ NO DOUBT. ALTHOUGH, I ADMIT I CAN’T PROTECT YOU FROM SOMETHING I CAN’T SEE. AND CORMAC JUST RUSHED INTO SOMETHING I CAN’T SEE. AND HE WILL GET HIMSELF KILLED AND IT WILL BE MY FAULT. LET’S GET AFTER HIM. ◊◊_`

As they crested the ridge where the road descended into Hogsmeade, the reason for the existence of the tree was not necessarily revealed, but it began to make more sense, in the way that sheep make sense if there are a dozen of them. For there below them, surrounding the fabled Tree of Ollivander, were hundreds, nay, thousands, of trees dwarfed by it – trees of a size the elders might say was usual, but still quite a bit taller than anything Sparrow knew, and all of them in leaf.

The children stopped in their tracks.

“Big,” said Jill.

“Green,” said Jocasta.

“Impossible,” said Violet.

“Well worth studying!” said Miranda, and she shoved them forward.

The children ran down the road, hoping Cormac hadn’t been eaten by some manner of giant venomous tentacula.

…

As she stood under the trees, Sparrow felt an old longing awaken within her. She had been in a place like this, once upon a time, when Jill’s family had managed to win a ticket to a Paradise Garden and brought her along. It had been quite the arresting experience, to see so much green in one place. The garden had not been especially large -- none of them were – but as Sparrow had stood beneath the leaves, and gazed down the rows of trees to the shadowed walls in the distance, she had wondered what it would look like if the trees could go on forever.

This place was not quite the same as going on forever, for the road itself stood unimpeded down to the far end of the village, and there was daylight at the end of it. Likewise if Sparrow looked between the trees she could see some daylight at about the same distance. Yet, for the most part the view north, east, and west became a green haze that left the far distance indistinct. On a day like today, with scant sunlight, the effect was pronounced.

Hogsmeade stood in the shadow of trees that, by all rights, should not have been here. Between the mighty trunks sat the ancient stone and brick buildings that she remembered, the half-timbered cottages and shops. Around other trunks lay scattered timber and plaster, as if they had grown right through the houses without stopping or slowing down.

In the shadow of this sudden forest there still strode the residents of the only fully magical town in Britain.

Or what might have been them. What was probably them. Had to be them. Look, there was Mr. Cuthalion, and there was old Caritus. They were all the same people – simply looking more shady than normal. Out of the sunlight, they looked as though they were in far deeper shadows than what the leaves gave them.

When they stepped into the sunlight, they vanished entirely.

And they were turning their heads to gaze upon the children, with eyes too shadowed to see. They were moving towards the children, all of them, all around, getting close. Too close for the children to back away now, except to huddle together.

Before Sparrow could raise her shield, a cry rang out in the distance.

_“Accio rapscallions!”_

Suddenly all of the children were pulled with great force down the pathway, towards a short woman standing in front of a massive trunk. Struggle as she might, there was little Sparrow could do to resist, for, being caught off-guard and frightened, it was difficult to think of any response.

Although, when Sparrow was released from the spell, she saw that Jill and Miranda were both still halfway down the path, eyes glowing, as though they had managed to break free after all.

“Stop resisting!” cried the woman.

“Stuff it!” shouted Miranda.

“I mean get your sorry arses over here!” The woman yanked open a door set in between the massive roots. “Or you won’t have any left! Come on!”

Jill didn’t need telling twice, but Miranda still hesitated, until one of the shadowy people touched her shoulder. Whatever she felt in that moment, she no longer needed telling twice, but bolted into the tree before Jill had even got there.

“Inside!” said the woman, and herded the rest of the children forward.

…

“Sorry about all that,” said the woman, as she sat down heavily in a chair. “Haven’t exactly figured out how to deal with all of this yet.”

The interior of the tree was difficult to comprehend in the dim light of the lantern. The light of the lantern made some things clear – Ivy’s auburn hair, for example, as well as curving walls covered in bark, hung with photographs, a floor laid over with carpeting, and a low table in the center surrounded by chairs. Sparrow could see that this was some kind of front parlor. But where the ceiling was, and what that other pitch-black doorway led to, and why the walls appeared to have twigs growing inward, was a question Sparrow couldn’t answer yet.

Nor could Sparrow understand why the light of the lantern seemed to reach just a bit lower than it should have.

Nor why the table had already been set with tea.

“I have a question,” said Jocasta.

“Please,” said the woman. “Take a seat and I’ll try to answer whatever questions you have.”

All the children sat, none of them willing to fully relax, nor to venture speaking. Violet and Cormac sat rather close together, though not looking quite as nervous as they did in McGonagall’s office. Jocasta sat as close as she usually did to Jill, with much more tension in her posture this time. As for Miranda, she was as tense as Jocasta, but she looked more distracted than anything.

“Go on,” said the woman.

Jocasta cleared her throat. “Yes. My question is very simple: What the hell.”

The woman sighed. “Simple enough to ask, impossible to answer completely. Would you care to be more specific? And would you care for some tea, I didn’t just make it for myself.”

“Yes,” said Cormac, “thank you.” He poured himself a cup. “So let’s begin with the easy questions. To whom do we have the pleasure of speaking?”

“Ivy,” said the woman. “Ivy Ollivander.”

“Ah ha,” said Cormac. “Not the specific person I wished to meet here, but then, I was unaware that Gianveer had a wife. Pardon me if I sound offensive, but – ”

“Old Garrick wouldn’t let me marry Gianveer unless I was an accomplished wandmaker, so I have, in fact, learned quite a bit about the craft. I can answer any wand-related questions you have.”

“Yes. Of course.” Cormac’s face turned red. He said nothing more.

The remainder of the children had not moved to pour any tea.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” said Ivy. “Nothing in this house will bite you. That is why I brought you all in here in the first place. I know Cormac came here for the sake of asking about wands – ”

“How?” said Miranda.

“I have my ways.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Please,” said Jocasta. “It’s not hard to guess that the Headmistress would have been giving you a heads-up about Cormac for a while. Nor would it be hard for an owl to find your house, even amidst this mess.”

“Ah, well.” Ivy set her tea down. “This mess wasn’t here when I went to bed. Like I said, I haven’t figured out how to deal with all this yet. I haven’t had time! And I haven’t been able to find Gianveer either. All I’ve got to go on is that he always told me magic could run wild if it wasn’t safely contained in a wand. Well that’s what it does normally, right? The wand is a focus. So maybe the wand he was making blew up! It was supposed to make plants grow faster anyway.”

“So this was all an accident,” said Jill. “No…nefarious fiend behind all this, who would cause all this mess to vanish if he were defeated.”

“Perhaps not”, said Ivy. She picked up her tea once more and sipped it, before continuing, “Real life is more complicated than our storybooks.”

“Trees that grew in the space of moments,” said Miranda. “I should like to say I must obtain one of their seeds, but for all we know, that could prove a disaster. Returning to the question Jocasta raised – what exactly happened to everyone in the town?”

Ivy shook her head. “I cannot say exactly. This is not any spell effect I am familiar with.”

“Nor anything I have heard of,” said Violet. “But, if it is true that magic can run wild, then its combinations would likely have unforeseen consequences. Like the destruction of numerous houses, and the probable death of the people therein.”

“Probable,” said Ivy. “I was not able to find any bodies within the ruins.”

“Talking of bodies,” said Cormac. “And getting to my question about wands. All of us here are under the impression that the Summoning Charm does not work on living bodies. How on earth did you manage to drag us towards you? Were we mistaken about that particular charm? Are we speaking to a far more powerful Wizard than any of us had guessed?”

Ivy chuckled. “You come close to flattering me, young Master McKinnon. But I do not deserve such a reputation. I am only an experimenter, like Miranda here.”

“Wait,” said Miranda, “I didn’t even tell you my name yet. None of us did.”

“As I said, I have my ways. Now, in this case, I am building on the efforts of Lysander Lovegood, who, following the concepts of his mother, came to believe that there were more ways to make wands than what old Garrick knew. So, he took a heartstring from the family dog – ”

“He what!” said Cormac.

“After it was dead,” said Ivy. “Please. The Lovegoods are strange, not heartless. They are willing to venture into areas of study that most Wizards dismiss. Sometimes it bears fruit. In this case, he placed a heartstring from the family dog within a stick he had found in the woods. The result was a wand that proved fanatically loyal to its owner, obedient to the rest of the family, and impossible to use for anyone else. It was effective for summoning charms and for the locomotor spell, as well as locating lost objects, but not much else. And if you had any manner of biscuit in your pocket, you were liable to find it missing.”

“Kind of sounds like the family dog was back again,” said Cormac. “But…that’s a non-magical core. And it wasn’t wandwood either.”

“Ah well.” Ivy chuckled. “Perhaps Lorcan was very lucky, and stumbled upon a stick that had fallen off a suitable tree. As for the core…I like to think it was magical in its own way. Perhaps it was simply that the dog had picked up a bit of magic from the household. And yet – love has its own magic, does it not? Saved our world, it did.”

`_• AND MINE. •_`

Ivy looked around in confusion, until everyone pointed to Jocasta.

“Ah. Yes. Well. Think of the love a dog has for a family that loves it. Endless and unconditional. If it is true that love imparts its own magic, then logically the heart of a happy dog should be a magical core of its own – not as strong as a unicorn hair, but enough to have demonstrable effect.”

“So what,” said Jocasta. “Dog heartstrings are also magical cores?”

“Getting there,” said Ivy. “Now, Lorcan and I had about the same thoughts regarding that wand. But then he went and stuck a bit of stone from a wall within some proper wandwood, and got a wand that could cast a shield stronger than anything – maybe even more than the shield of dear Sparrow here.” She nodded to Sparrow. “Don’t get envious now.”

`_◊◊ IF A WAND ONLY DOES ONE THING, I COULDN’T POSSIBLY BE ENVIOUS. ◊◊_`

Ivy looked perplexed, until Sparrow pointed to herself.

“Ah ha,” said Ivy. “Well, are you sure you don’t want the wand as backup anyway?”

`_◊◊ EXCUSE ME? ◊◊_`

Ivy drew a wand out of her pocket. It was fairly short, and in this light looked grayish. “Lorcan couldn’t find a use for it, even though I told him he’d enjoy not having to worry about getting his eyebrows burned off again. I’m sure you could use this thing to cast a shield the very world could not break.”

`_◊◊ I…CANNOT FATHOM THE IDEA OF BEING THE MISTRESS OF MORE THAN ONE WAND. ◊◊_`

“Oh come now,” said Jocasta. “Surely you of all people know how to be promiscuous.”

`_◊◊ THAT IS FAIR. LET US SAY, THEN, THAT MY CURRENT WAND COULD BECOME JEALOUS. ◊◊_`

“I’ll take it then,” said Jill. “Could be useful when I can’t manage to cast a shield otherwise.”

“Just don’t rely on that forever,” said Violet. “The O.W.L. examiners might at look at you very strangely if you take the test using two different wands.”

Jill shrugged.

“Getting to my point,” said Ivy, “the chip from the wall was not from a living being. So how on earth did it manage to have a magical effect? This is what Gianveer and I have been puzzling over. Surely you couldn’t just stuff anything in a wand and call it good? But then we made another wand with a core of beetle wings, and it was able to levitate objects much larger than our usual limits, as well as carve wood to a great degree of delicacy. Anyone want that one?” She drew another wand out of her pocket. It was polished enough to shine in the lantern light.

Cormac raised his hand.

Ivy tossed the wand to him, then continued. “Now, the next one we tried was a bunch of rose petals, and –”

“Let me guess,” said Miranda. “The wand makes plants grow faster.”

“You’re beginning to get the picture,” said Ivy. “For that, I am willing to grant you a wand. It’s got rose petals in.”

“Sure,” said Miranda, “Sure. Why not.”

Ivy drew a wand of green wood from her pocket and tossed it to Miranda. “Now where was I? Oh yes – ”

`_◊◊ GOT ANYTHING FOR VIOLET? ◊◊_`

“I’m getting to that! Sheesh!” Ivy drew another wand out of her pocket. “Maplewood. This one, we put a cat’s heartstring in – ”

“Not the family cat too!” said Cormac.

“Please,” said Ivy. “It was a cat we found dead in the street. I daresay the wand has had a better life than the cat. It seems to be very good at locating lost objects and it can point the way home. But you don’t use the silly thing, it just acts when it pleases. Sometimes you can’t find it at all!”

“I should hope for something more reliable,” said Violet.

“Sounds more like my style,” said Jocasta, waving her hand lazily. “Give.”

“Ah ah ah!” said Ivy. “What’s the magic word.”

Jocasta rolled her eyes. “Please.”

“Good girl.” Ivy tossed her the wand. “Violet, I have something you might like better anyway.” She drew a wand out of her pocket that looked shiny enough to be made of metal. “Black Walnut, core of glass. Quite potent with magnification spells and casting light. Too potent, perhaps. Be careful with it, I nearly set this place on fire once.”

Violet nodded. Ivy tossed the wand to her and said, “Now, does anyone see where I’m going with all of this? What is the common factor between these wands?”

“Don’t look now,” said Jocasta, “but I think we stumbled into a classroom despite our best efforts.”

“Technically we’re in class all the time now,” said Violet. “As for the wands…each of them appears to mimic the characteristics of their core. Glass that focuses sunlight, old wall-stone that resists intruders, beetles that chew through wood…I’ve got an idea but it still seems impossible. For all I know you’re just having us on.”

“Am I?” said Ivy. “Give your own wand a try then.”

Violet shrugged, and pointed her wand into the darkness overhead. “Lumos Solem!”

A beam of pure white light shot out of the wand and, for a brief moment, drove away the darkness above. Or most of it, at any rate. There was something far overhead that remained pitch-black, something that clung to the wall with more legs than Sparrow had expected. Something whose four eyes could now be seen, glowing white in the darkness.

Miranda’s eyes began to glow blue, as if in return for the sight.

“Ah ha,” said Ivy. “That’s where he’s gone.”

“Nothing in this house will bite us?” said Cormac.

Ivy shook her head.

“I imagine you don’t mind if he bites you,” said Jocasta.

Ivy nodded.

“I was joking,” said Jocasta.

Ivy only replied with a knowing smirk.

Jocasta scowled. “I thought I was joking.”

“Perhaps you were. As for Gianveer, he’ll come down eventually. Back to you, Violet – you see what I am referring to now?”

Violet nodded. “I can at least believe that you have achieved a significant advancement in the construction of wands. But I still hesitate to say how this works.”

“Think of it this way,” said Jill. “Cormac’s told me that wands might really have lives of their own. Maybe the life is in the core. Maybe whatever the core was good at doing, it remembers, and tries to keep doing. As if there’s a little bit of magic in everything, as there is in a dog’s heartstring, and all it needs is a focus.”

Cormac nudged Jill. “Now you’re starting to think like a wandmaker.”

“Yeah well.” Jill snorted. “I know very well that my wand has a mind of its own.”

`_◊◊ AS DOES MINE. SHE’S VERY STRICT WITH ME. AS I SAID, I DO NOT THINK SHE WOULD ACCEPT THE PRESENCE OF ANY OTHER WAND – SAVE THE ONE SHE SEEKS, PERHAPS TO THE NEGLECT OF ALL ELSE. ◊◊_`

Ivy raised an eyebrow. “Your wand’s pining for her true love, is that it?”

Sparrow’s face grew hot.

“I would not frame it as such,” said Cormac. “I consider Sparrow and Jill’s wands to be twin sisters, of a sort. Always near each other from the moment they were made to the moment Jill ran away from Sparrow, and then…together again, and reportedly inseparable. One wonders what the _Priori Incantatem_ did to them.” Cormac explained what had happened within the courtyard.

Ivy’s face as this story was told only betrayed a hint of emotion when Sparrow explained the bit about the hands on her shoulders. In that moment she looked intrigued.

“Inseparable,” said Ivy. “Hm. May I see this effect?”

Jill and Sparrow exchanged glances.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” said Jill. “Cormac’s not kidding about the inseparability. Nor is Sparrow very separable from her own wand.”

“Please?”

“And you wouldn’t be able to move the wands either.”

_“Pleeeaase?”_

Jill rolled her eyes. “Sparrow, what do you think?”

`_◊◊ I CAN STAND TO BE AT LEAST A FEW INCHES FROM MY OWN WAND. ◊◊_`

“Alright.” Jill drew her wand and tossed it over the table at Sparrow. At the same time Sparrow tossed her wand towards Jill. The two met in the air with a sharp clack and stayed there.

Ivy peered at the wands. “Dearie me,” she said. “This is…something I’ve only seen once before, and I had hoped Garrick could understand how dangerous it could be. Tell me, Sparrow – when he gave you this particular wand, what exactly did he look like?”

Sparrow put on a toothy grin as wide as she could, and opened her eyes as wide as she could.

Cormac and Violet had not moved, nor had their own expressions changed, yet their hands had found each other and they were not letting go.

“Please,” said Jocasta, “tell me he didn’t look _exactly_ like that.”

Sparrow nodded.

“I feared as much,” said Ivy. “Jill, was he the same for you?”

Jill nodded.

“Then I have a better understanding of why these wands make me feel so odd.” She shook a wand out of her sleeve and lit its end with a flick. “Violet, may I see your walnut wand, please?”

Violet tossed the walnut wand to Ivy. Ivy held up her lit wand and the walnut wand, shining a soft light on the two hanging in midair. “If I examine these carvings closely,” she said, “I can see they line up with each other, continuing on one side precisely where the other leaves off. And if I examine the wood grain – ” she muttered a word, and a circle of air was suddenly filled with the image of magnified wood. “It appears as if the wood grain matches as closely as the carvings.” She shook the walnut wand and the image of the magnified wood took on a purplish tint. “Precisely the same amount of aging in the finish. Two wands, carved from the same piece of wood, made at the same time. And containing a hair from the same creature.”

“Sounds a lot like how identical twin human embryos form,” said Cormac.

“And twins work best together,” said Miranda. “If I am not mistaken.”

“Inseparable,” said Jill. “And one wand bears the sword and the other bears the shield, so that together they cannot be moved. Unless they can lower their guard.”

“But how to help them avoid getting agitated in the first place?” said Cormac.

Jill shrugged. “Meditation removes their agitation, but I can’t meditate all the time. Can I?”

“I have an idea,” said Jocasta. “Get a dog.”

Jill raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“You want a dog to chew on my wand, is that it?”

“No, I mean – look. The one thing I do know about muggles is that they seem to value pets for emotional support as much as Wizards do. So if Mrs. Ollivander here happens to have that wand with the dog hair in it – ”

“Heartstring,” said Ivy. “But yes, I do.”

“Well then there you go. That’s something Sparrow’s wand could have as a companion when her other half isn’t around.”

Jill’s eyes lit up. “Do you mean to say, I would not have to worry about my wand making my pocket look incredibly embarrassing?”

Jocasta shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

Ivy drew out of her pocket, not a wand as anyone would describe it, but a plain, ordinary, well-chewed forearm’s-length of twisting branch.

“That?” said Cormac. “That’s a wand?”

“I should have specified,” said Ivy. “Lorcan found the stick many years ago, and his dog loved it all his life. One might say that part of the dog’s heart was already in the stick. So then, let us see – ” She tapped the two wands that were hanging in the air. In the next moment they clattered to the table. “There. I daresay the stick will give them both a little more reassurance. Will you let it be yours, Sparrow? It needs a new family. Such as yours, here.”

`HOW DID YOU -- NEVER MIND. ◊◊` Sparrow took the wand and placed it in a pocket of her robes. `I DARESAY WE HAVE LEARNED FAR MORE THAN WE EXPECTED HERE. ◊◊`

“Indeed we have,” said Cormac. “It appears that a wand does not require wandwood after all. Although I would appreciate knowing where you and Mr. Lovegood find a reliable supply that is inexpensive enough for experimentation.”

“Oh,” said Ivy. “We have our sources.” She nodded to the wall. “As long as we’re polite about asking.”

Sparrow realized with a start that the twigs she had idly noticed before were now crawling slowly up the wall.

“How about that,” said Miranda. “I’ve never had a chance to see a bowtruckle in the wild. So to speak.”

“I have a final question,” said Cormac.

“Go on,” said Ivy.

“How did you make the wand that summoned us to you?”

“Beech wood and core of woven human hair,” said Ivy. “Mine and Gianveer’s.”

“Ah ha,” said Cormac. “A core of human magnetism.”

`_◊◊ I HAVE ONE FINAL QUESTION AS WELL. WHAT WILL WE DO FOR HOGSMEADE? WHAT CAN WE DO FOR ITS PEOPLE? ◊◊_`

“Study them,” said Violet. “From a safe distance. Doesn’t seem like there’s much more anyone can do at the moment. Although I’m sure Professor Longbottom will be fascinated to hear about trees that grow overnight.”

“What can we do about them?” said Jill. “For all we know, if we step out the door…hm. I’ve got one idea.” She turned to Ivy. “Mrs. Ollivander, this has been a fascinating discussion, and thank you very much for all you’ve given us. Is there any way you can give us safe passage from this place?”

“I have an idea,” said Ivy. “But you will have to move fast.”

“Not a challenge,” said Jill. “Not for me at least. But that means I must take care of something first. If you will excuse me one moment.” She rose, and stood over Jocasta, gazing into her eyes.

Jocasta’s expression was one of terrified eagerness. She gave a small nod.

Jill kissed her hard on the mouth.

For all that Jocasta had looked terrified, by the time it was over she did not look displeased. More like delerious.

`_◊◊ WHAT ABOUT ME? ◊◊_`

`_††††† OH, I’VE GOT PLENTY OF TIME FOR YOU, MY DEAR. ASSUMING YOU CAN HANDLE IT. †††††_`

Jocasta giggled. “Save yourself, Sparrow. Flee while you can.”

`_◊◊ YES, I THINK IT’S TIME WE BE GOING. ALRIGHT, IVY. LET US SEE HOW YOUR IDEA WORKS. ◊◊_`

…

Through Hogsmeade sprinted six young Wizards, along a path bathed in sunlight, under a canopy that had been split by some carefully-applied wind magic, a canopy kitting itself back together even as the children ran.

…

Six children stood outside the forest of Hogsmeade.

Violet was staring at a wide circle of air, which showed an image of many shadowy people beneath the trees, standing there, just on the edge of the shade, as if not daring to move beyond it.

“This is going to be another headache for McGonagall,” said Cormac.

“Bit of an embarrassment for Professor Clearwater as well,” said Jill. “She sure didn’t warn us about this.”

“Well we survived didn’t we?" Cormac nodded his head towards the castle. "Come on, we should be going.”

Sparrow turned away from the sorry scene, finding a cold comfort in the shape of the little dell as it rose toward the castle grounds, the road winding through fields of mud and scattered brush.

Warmer comfort was a light kiss on the head from Jocasta.

And then Jill scooping her up. “My turn,” said Jill. She nuzzled Sparrow’s cheek.

Sparrow idly wondered why Jill did not give her any kisses as she had long ago, but it was a thought mostly lost in the sheer heat that a single nuzzle imparted.

“Oh ho,” said Jocasta. “Now Jill is _also_ dating two people at once. Just don’t leave a burn on her, dear.”

“Talking of burns,” said Miranda. Her voice was perfectly even, but her eyes were still glowing blue. “This is not looking good. Or feeling good.”

Miranda’s left shoulder had not got off lightly from its brief brush with the villager. The cloth of her robe had dissolved where the shadowy fingers touched it, likewise the shirt under it, right down to the skin.

“Let me see,” said Jocasta. She reached up to brush the exposed skin of Miranda’s shoulder. “Oh! Oh my goodness, oh dear. Miranda, would you kneel please.”

“Uh – ”

`_• THERE’S BLOOD ON MY FINGERS AND YOU’RE TOO TALL FOR ME TO EXAMINE OTHERWISE. •_`

Miranda knelt. And as Sparrow observed, there was indeed a fair bit of blood on Jocasta’s fingers, and more after she prodded Miranda’s shoulder beneath the intact cloth. She ran her wand over the remaining cloth and muttered a word, then ripped the cloth open in a line, before Miranda even could protest.

Miranda’s shoulder was of about the same color as the rest of her, slightly more pale for being always hidden from the sun, just enough of a color contrast to see what had happened – what was still happening. The poor girl’s skin was pitch black in a wide patch on her shoulder, and the color was creeping outward, one tiny millimeter at a time. A trickle of blood was seeping down her arm, staining the cloth of her shirt sleeve.

“Oh,” said Miranda, still in that perfectly even tone. “Bit of a sticky wicket, it seems.”

_“Vulnera Sanentur,”_ said Jocasta, as she held her wand against Miranda’s shoulder.

The patch of pitch blackness began to creep inward.

But then it moved outward again.

_“Vulerna Sanentur!”_

Once again the patch began to shrink. Once again it stopped shrinking.

_“VULERNA SANENTUR!”_

The patch shrank a bit faster this time. But then it sprang back to where it began.

“God dammit,” said Jocasta. “God dammit, I thought I was getting better at this. Miranda, can you still move your arm?”

“Let’s see,” said Miranda. She tried to shrug, and only managed to make it halfway. Her arm dangled at her side. “Nope.”

Jocasta’s eyes began to glow green. She slapped her hand down upon the wound. `• VULERNA SANENTUR! •`

Miranda sucked air through her teeth as the wound began to shrink once more. “Sorry,” she said with a slight edge to her voice, “I think that cure is only slightly better than the disease.”

`_• DO YOU HAVE ANY BETTER IDEAS! •_`

“First of all,” said Cormac, “We have a wand that focuses sunlight, correct? Violet, time for you to shine.”

Violet drew the Walnut Wand. “This is no time for puns, Cormac my friend.”

“Just see if that Lumos Solem thing works on this one.”

Violet frowned. “Focused sunlight. Hm. Might also hurt a bit. Or blind Miranda if my hand slips. I…have a better idea. Assuming the wand can reach that far? Hm. But two of them can. This will be a little complicated. Sparrow, we will need that stick of yours now.”

Sparrow raised an eyebrow.

“Just tell it to go and get a teacher. Someone. Anyone.”

“How’s that supposed to work?” said Jill.

“It’s got the heart of a dog,” said Violet. “If it can fetch things it can also fetch people. Yes? Try it.”

Sparrow took the stick out of her pocket, touched it to her forehead and closed her eyes. `◊◊ GO GET HELP, BOY. GO ON NOW. ◊◊`

She opened her eyes and tossed the stick away. `◊◊ FETCH! ◊◊`

The stick sped straight upward and out of sight.

“Oh wonderful,” said Jill. “It decided to chase a butterfly-shaped cloud.”

“That still works for step one,” said Violet. “Now, step two is for you two to put your wands together.”

Sparrow and Jill tossed their wands out of their hands. The wands clacked together and hung suspended in the air.

“Alright,” said Violet. “Now, I need both of you to cast ventus straight upward.”

“Are you sure?” said Jill. “The effect could be bigger than you intend.”

“Losing feeling in my arm,” said Miranda. “Hurry it up with whatever you’ve got planned.”

`_• I’M DOING THE BEST I CAN! •_`

For Jocasta had kept at the healing spell, never giving up, never tiring. But in each moment after lifting her wand, the damage creeped outward a little more.

So when Sparrow reached out a hand to Jocasta’s own shoulder, she stiffened, but did not cease her efforts.

`_◊◊ COME ON, JOCASTA. IF WE WANT THIS SPELL TO BE BIG ENOUGH, I THINK WE NEED YOUR HAND ON THE WAND AS WELL. ◊◊_`

`_• I AM NOT GOING TO STOP TRYING! •_`

`_◊◊ AT LEAST TAKE MY HAND THEN. ◊◊_`

That, Jocasta could do.

And together, Sparrow and Jill cast the spell.

The resulting stream of wind did indeed reach all the way to the clouds, and through them, clearing a sizeable patch of sky. Sunlight streamed down upon six children who, until that moment, had been growing more and more terrified.

In the bright sunlight, the wound on Miranda’s shoulder finally began to shrink rapidly.

But the patch of sky was shrinking, as the clouds swirled around it.

Jocasta met Sparrow’s eyes, and nodded. Then she put a finger on the floating wands, above Sparrow’s hand and below Jill’s. And together, all three girls cast the spell.

This time, the resulting roar of wind deafened Sparrow, and opened patch of blue sky nearly a mile wide.

“Thank you,” said Violet. “And now for the final step.” She raised the Walnut Wand and cried, _“Focus in Solem!”_

The sunlight upon Miranda’s shoulder grew brighter, and her wound began to fade, as did the glow from her eyes.

“Alright,” said Miranda, her voice even once more. “Pain’s gone. That’s, uh…good teamwork. Medical solutions on the fly. McGonagall – _cough_ – McGonagall would be proud.”

Jocasta hugged Miranda from behind. “Don’t you dare die on me now when I thought you were alright.”

“Woah!” said Miranda as she stiffened. “Warn me about that next time. Besides, the cough was a joke.”

“Really.” Jocasta lightly smacked Miranda on the other shoulder. “Don’t play with my heart like that, girl.”

“What if I told you my arm remains immobile? That is no jest.”

“Oh for Heaven’s sake!”

“It’s fine,” said Miranda. “Unless it is not. Violet, if you would be willing to let the sunlight go?”

Violet put the Walnut Wand back in her pocket, and the bright patch on Miranda’s shoulder faded to match the rest of the sunlight. The wound did not return.

“Thank you,” said Miranda. “Now, as I said, I still can’t move my arm. So if the Hospital Wing can’t help me, as I suspect they won’t be able to – ah, but here comes someone now.”

High above and streaking towards the children was a distinctive sight – Cordelia Clearwater on a broom, long sleeves and long hair trailing well behind her in the wind of her swift flight.

She landed in front of the children and immediately moved to examine Miranda’s shoulder, and nodded, evidently satisfied with the results of everyone’s efforts.

Three seconds later the Fetching Stick bonked her on the head.

She whirled and, seeing the old stick on the ground, looked thoroughly vexed.

`_◊◊ HERE BOY. ◊◊_`

“Excuse me?” said Professor Clearwater, as the stick jumped up and flew to Sparrow’s hand.

`_◊◊ I HAVE APPARENTLY BECOME THE OWNER OF A VERY GOOD DOG. UNLESS THE STICK HIT YOU IN THE FACE WHILE YOU WERE ON THE WAY HERE? ◊◊_`

“I’ve been circling the area for a while. But yes, your stick did smack me in the forehead. Pointed in your direction and then shot off towards the castle. Thank goodness that sunbeam made you all easier to pinpoint.”

In the next moment Professor Budge landed heavily in the mud.

“For heaven’s sake,” said Professor Clearwater, “all around the world and you still don’t know how to ride a broom?”

“Flying carpets and Apparition are both so much more simple,” said Professor Budge. “Now does anyone want to tell me why I had a ghost drag me out of my office? Something about Professor Longbottom and a stick, but I lost the damn stick on the way, and Professor Longbottom isn’t here. Now, where’s the village gone? Where did all those trees come from? Sparrow, is this your doing?”

Sparrow shook her head.

“Do you recall what I told you this morning?” said Professor Clearwater.

“Crystal ball, Hogsmeade disappears into a lake of trees. Right. Pity divination never tells you why something happens. Or when.”

“That’s up to the Wizard to decide. But it would help if we knew exactly what did happen. So, children, care to explain what mortal peril you faced _this_ time?”

"I don't know," said Jill. "Care to explain why you didn't tell us this was a known possibility?"

"I don't know," said Professor Clearwater. "Care to tell me why you didn't mention you were going down to Hogsmeade?"

"I assumed McGonagall would tell you," said Cormac. "Maybe she forgot to tell you. Anyway..." He launched into an explanation of the morning's events, the rest of the children contibuting where they could.

When the story was finished, neither teacher looked as perplexed as Sparrow had anticipated. Professor Budge, for his part, looked grim. He had, in fact, encountered similar circumstances in the Canadian Rockies up near the Yukon River. Nasty business, not worth going into detail over. What a pity that good old Gianveer had fallen so far. As for Professor Clearwater, she looked equally grim, but made no comment.

The two professors mounted their brooms and levitated Miranda between them. She gave her friends a wink, then was up and away towards the castle, leaving behind behind five rattled people, one of whom clung to her girlfriends closely all the way home.

…

Miranda’s wound did not re-appear, yet for all the spells and salves and potions that Madame Abbot tried, the girl’s arm did not regain its function. After a certain point,Madame Pomfrey had to gently remind her that it would be dangerous to continue, lest one magical effect mix with another. So the most that could be done was to put Miranda's arm in a sling and tell her to come in tomorrow morning.

Miranda did not ask why everyone was following her on the way back to the Gryffindor common room. At a certain point she turned around and said, “Alright, so we are now out of their earshot, and I can tell you what I want to try without insulting anyone's expertise. Because I think I can come up with a potion they don't have.”

Jocasta snorted. “That goes without saying.”

“And I am currently physically impaired. So Cormac, Violet, I will need you for the more delicate parts of the process.”

“Not me?” said Jocasta.

“I need a level head and a steady hand,” said Miranda. “What I felt from your hand back there on the road…I think that if you were to be involved you might be nervous enough to hesitate in critical moments.”

`_• MIRANDA, I CAN’T LEAVE YOU LIKE THIS. NOT WITH THE POSSIBILITY THAT YOUR WOUND COULD COME BACK. •_`

“I know,” said Miranda. “You are certainly free to watch. I could hardly banish you from my sight! But I really don't think you can help me with this. And you have your own business to attend to, yes? Tonight is the night for gathering dew. So let your loved ones be enough for you tonight.” She patted Jocasta's head.

“But you’re – fine. Fine.” Jocasta turned and stalked away.

“That was a bit cold,” said Cormac.

“It was indeed. Yet necessary. If she hates me tonight then she will worry less.”

Cormac shook his head slowly. “Doesn’t seem likely.”

“Nonetheless, we must set to work. Come on.” Miranda set off at a brisk pace, not even checking to see if the rest were following her.

…

Jocasta did not come down to the dungeons to see Miranda’s attempt at potioncraft. The most that she could say to Sparrow, from a long distance away, was that she would remain in her quarters alone until it was time to gather the dew.

Professor Slughorn thought this disappointing, as it was not often that one had the opportunity to see a daring attempt at improvised potioncraft, much less an attempt from someone who actually had a chance of making it work. A better chance with him around, of course, for the trickier questions about how much to stir, how much to grind the Snorckack horn, and the precise degree of temperature beneath the cauldron. With him around it would probably not blow up in everyone’s face.

Though the fact that Professor Clearwater was also watching the proceedings with clear intent did not bode well. Nor the part where she muttered to Sparrow that the bridge ought to be avoided tonight.

So Sparrow thought it wise to view the proceedings, just in case they needed a shield. And when Percival stuck his head in the door, and requested a private moment with Sparrow, she was reluctant to leave. She had to trust that all would be well, and that between Slughorn, Clearwater, and Jill, the three potioncrafters would have at least one person able to render rescue if it became necessary.

So, after an exasperating climb to the fifth floor, Sparrow found herself sitting in a curious space – it was the Room of Requirement, she knew the door well, but as for the interior this time, that was something she had never seen before.

Amidst a room that was otherwise dark, four green marble pillars stood in a square. In the center of the square was a square wooden table, with one chair on either side. The ceiling above the table was also square, yet recessed in steps, each step glowing dimly. It was just enough light to read by.

On one side of the table sat Percival Bulstrode. Sparrow picked up her chair and moved it to the side facing his left, then sat down, and gave Percival an innocent, eager look.

Percival shook his head. “Come on. We have to do this properly. If I’m not unsubtly trying to intimidate you then it’s no fun.”

`_◊◊ THERE ARE FEW PEOPLE OR THINGS THAT CAN INTIMIDATE ME, PERCIVAL. ◊◊_`

“Ah ha,” said Percival. “What if those things, say, went after your family?”

`_◊◊ WHAT ARE YOU IMPLYING. ◊◊_`

“Nothing!” said Percival, putting up his hands in response to Sparrow’s sudden glare. “I’m not _implying_ anything. I’m saying someone will go after your family at some point, because of how loud you’ve been in support of your own ideals.”

`_◊◊ THAT IS…A POSSIBILITY I SHOULD HAVE CONSIDERED. ◊◊_`

“But you didn’t,” said Percival. “Because you’re Sparrow Jones, and nothing breaks your bones, so you don’t have to think about threats, just react to them in time. So you don’t think about threats to other people either.”

`_◊◊ IF THAT WERE TRUE I WOULD BE UTTERLY USELESS FOR ANYONE BESIDES ME. ◊◊_`

“Well you might find yourself useless anyway, the way you’re headed. You’re headed straight into politics with bold idealism, and every cynical bastard who sees you in action will think you’re far too naïve to think that anyone could kneecap you from behind.”

`_◊◊ ARE YOU ALSO CYNICAL? ◊◊_`

“I am willing to consider the depths to which people sink.”

`_◊◊ AND I AM NOT. ◊◊_`

“Precisely. Never one to believe anyone could be underhanded. So – I’m going to take a wild guess and say that you haven’t actually told your parents about your infamous outburst in September?”

`_◊◊ OH, I DID. ◊◊_`

“So they have some idea that you’re starting your whole mess, and they might be able to understand why there are a lot of curious people in their neighborhood who duck out of sight whenever they come by.”

`_◊◊ IF THREATS ARE BEING MADE AGAINST MY FAMILY, I OUGHT TO GET DOWN TO LONDON RIGHT NOW. ◊◊_`

“Not like that!” said Percival. “I just mean there’s a security detail around your family’s house right now. See, I contacted Professor McGonagall and – ”

`_◊◊ I APPRECIATE YOUR HELP AND YOUR ANTICIPATION OF THINGS I DID NOT CONSIDER, BUT I AM QUITE ANNOYED THAT YOU INITIATED SUCH A THING WITHOUT CONSULTING ME OR WARNING ME. ◊◊_`

“ – and she had _already arranged for such_ a thing. Because she knows hot to actually protect people, and that means being _willing_ to consider the _possibility_ that someone might play dirty.”

`_◊◊ OH. ◊◊_`

“And in the case of the security detail – what if someone decides those people are the first thing to attack if they want to reach you? What if one of the aurors has a slightly sordid history that could be fuel for blackmail? Or known weaknesses that could be played upon? What if the aurors are turned against each other? What then? Well, that’s a horrible thought, but someone has to think it, if they want to ward against it.”

`_◊◊ YOU ARE CONSIDERABLY LESS BRIGHT-HEARTED THAN WHEN YOU OFFERED TO STAND BY MY SIDE, BACK IN JANUARY. DID MY SLANDER AGAINST YOU HURT YOU EVEN MORE THAN I HAD THOUGHT? ◊◊_`

“Oh, that’s – ” he waved his hand in a shooing motion. “Long story. It wasn’t what you thought it was. Like I said, talk to Wilhelmina if you want to know the details. She can explain certain muggle concepts better than me. But I have always been a little cynical. Maybe I’m just getting moreso because I fear for you. Look – I think it would help you a lot if you could actually get a sense of how cynicism can be useful and where it works. So what I wanted to suggest here is that you join the Slug Club.”

`_◊◊ THE SLUG CLUB. THE PLACE WHERE PEOPLE ACT CHUMMY WITH EACH OTHER SO THEY CAN ALL SORT OUT WHAT MINISTRY POSITIONS THEY WILL GIVE EACH OTHER AFTER GRADUATING. ◊◊_`

“Ah ha!” Percival clapped his hands. “Now you’re getting it! Yes, that’s a big part of it. But the point is to learn politics. Sordid politics. Horse-trading, arm-twisting, cajoling, subtly maneuvering people into a social corner, and so forth. Good way to spy without being a spy, and leverage people to get things done without having to go to open war. Build coalitions and gain allies. You can’t do that just by being flashy and noble.”

`_◊◊ NO. I CERTAINLY CANNOT. BUT I CAN MAKE FRIENDS BY HELPING PEOPLE IN NEED. WHICH I HAVE BEEN…GETTING INVOLVED IN, OVER THE PAST FEW WEEKS, AS MY SCHEDULE HAS SUDDENLY OPENED UP. ◊◊_`

“And you think these people won’t turn on you for petty reasons?”

`_◊◊ COULD BE, COULD BE. BUT OH, IF THEY DEPEND ON ME…THEY CANNOT LOSE ME. ◊◊_`

“Back it up a little bit,” said Percival. “Now you sound positively devious.”

`_◊◊ TRUE. PERHAPS THERE IS MORE EVIL IN MY HEART THAN YOU EXPECTED, PERCIVAL. ◊◊_`

“I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

`_◊◊ I HARDLY JOKE WHEN I SPEAK IN THIS MANNER. I AM NOT SURE WHY. BUT I DO THINK THAT IF I WERE TO ENTER THE SLUG CLUB IN MY CURRENT STATUS OF BEING MUTE, SUCH THAT I CAME IN WITHOUT HUMOR, LOOKING TO WORLDLY PEOPLE LIKE SOME ANGEL OF JUDGMENT…I THINK IT WOULD NOT GO WELL. ◊◊_`

“Or maybe you’re just over-reacting to your newfound ability and playing it for drama. Well, fine. When will you think of joining the club?”

`_◊◊ NEXT MONTH. I’VE GOT A LOT ON MY MIND RIGHT NOW. ◊◊_`

“Next month, eh? Lot on your mind right now, eh? And a cat has your tongue. Would this month happen to end right after the full moon?”

`_◊◊ WHAT DOES THE MOON HAVE TO DO WITH IT? ◊◊_`

“Nothing,” said Percival. “Just an idle thought, that’s all. I don’t want to waste any more of your time, so…just remember what I said, alright? I’m worried that this will all come down to war. And then you really do need to fight dirty.”

`_◊◊ OR HAVE FRIENDS WHO CAN DO THAT FOR ME. YES. I WILL REMEMBER WHAT YOU HAVE SAID. ◊◊_`

Somone tapped Sparrow on the shoulder.

She jumped, and whirled around, wand at the ready. But it was, once again, Jocasta Carrow.

`_◊◊ WILL YOU STOP FOLLOWING ME INTO ROOMS YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN! ◊◊_`

Jocasta kissed Sparrow on the cheek. “Nice you see you too.” She turned to Percival. “Sorry about the intrusion, Mister Bulstrode. I won’t play that trick on you twice.”

“I should certainly hope not,” said Percival. “Nor tap a jumpy Wizard on the shoulder. You might come a cropper from it.”

“Fair enough.”

“Why are you even in here?”

Jocasta drew herself up, and said, “I am in here because I know you, Percival Bulstrode, and I know you like to talk politics. I had good reason to believe that was the advice you would give Sparrow. To get involved in that sort of dirty business.”

“And you, of all people, are telling me it’s a bad thing?”

“I’m saying it’s _my_ job. Come now, Sparrow, we have work to be doing.” She led Sparrow by hand out of the room.

…

As they strode down the hallway, Jocasta always just a step of Sparrow, Sparrow was content to keep silent for a while, for she did not know which set of questions to ask first.

But eventually she picked one.

`_◊◊ WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOUR JOB? ◊◊_`

“Sparrow, my dear.” Jocasta put her arm over Sparrow’s shoulders and slowed enough to match her pace. “You told me you wanted to hold true to yourself. Who would I be if I let you follow advice that made you as cynical as me?”

`_◊◊ YOU WOULD PREFER I REMAIN INNOCENT, THEN? ◊◊_`

“Or at least unsullied. But that usually requires innocence.”

`_◊◊ I AM CERTAINLY NO LONGER INNOCENT. ◊◊_`

“Indeed not. And yet – a spirit untarnished by pessimism. You were scarred, but not marred. No matter what I threw at you over the years. Can you imagine I would wish to see such a heart become ordinary?”

`_◊◊ IT SOUNDS AS THOUGH YOU ADMIRE ME. ◊◊_`

“Perhaps more than I have made clear.”

`_◊◊ TALKING OF WHICH – ◊◊_`

“Nope. Changing the subject.”

`_◊◊ I DIDN’T EVEN FINISH! ◊◊_`

“You didn’t have to. Now, as I said, politics is _my_ job. I am perfectly willing to join the Slug Club and let you know what I find out from those people. But I want you to keep out of it. Do you understand?”

`_◊◊ NO. ◊◊_`

“What part do you not understand, then?”

`_◊◊ I MEAN NO AS IN, I THINK I OUGHT TO JOIN THE SLUG CLUB. ◊◊_`

“Come _on_ , Sparrow.”

`_◊◊ YOU REMEMBER WHAT JILL SAID ABOUT JOINING HUFFLEPUFF? SHE WANTED TO BE UNDERESTIMATED. ◊◊_`

“One wonders if that could have possibly worked, considering her stature. I think she has established a solid reputation as someone terrifying.”

`_◊◊ PERHAPS SO. AS FOR ME – I THINK I HAVE ESTABLISHED A SOLID REPUTATION AS A NOBLE FOOL. IMAGINE WHAT SORT OF POLITICS I COULD DO WITH EVERYONE OVERLOOKING ME. ◊◊_`

“They do that already.”

`_◊◊ OH WONDERFUL, THAT’S – WAIT. WAS THAT A SHORT JOKE. ◊◊_`

“Don’t know what you mean.”

`_◊◊ WELL, IMAGINE HOW HARD IT HITS PEOPLE WHEN THEY SEE YOU BEING SINCERE. ◊◊_`

`_• IMAGINE HOW HARD IT HITS ME TO HEAR YOU SAYING SUCH THINGS. •_`

`_◊◊ OH. ◊◊_`

`_• BACK AT THE YULE BALL I THOUGHT IT WAS AMUSING. NOT AS MUCH NOW. NOT NOW THAT I KNOW YOU THIS WELL. YOU…PRESENT AN IDEAL I CURSE MYSELF FOR FAILING TO MEET. I FEAR THAT YOU ARE GIVING IT UP. •_`

`_◊◊ IF YOU WOULD CARE FOR ME, JOCASTA, TAKE CARE TO AVOID PLACING ME ON A PEDESTAL. LEST I SUFFER FOR THE ACT OF MOVING AN INCH. ◊◊_`

“Sorry.” Jocasta removed her arm from Sparrow’s shoulder.

`_◊◊ I COULD CERTAINLY TAKE LESSONS IN POLITICS FROM YOU, EVEN IF YOU WOULD NOT HAVE ME JOIN THE SLUG CLUB. ◊◊_`

“That’s a compromise.”

`_◊◊ AND, FOR WHAT IT IS WORTH…I DID NOT EXPLAIN MATTERS TO PERCIVAL, BECAUSE I DECIDED IT WAS NOT A MATTER TO BANDY ABOUT WITHOUT ASKING. BUT WHEN YOU SAID MY MOTHER IS A WHORE – MY REPLY WAS NOT A JOKE. ◊◊_`

Jocasta looked nonplussed. “And you don’t consider it a shame?”

`_◊◊ I SHOULD CLARIFY. SHE IS A COURTESAN. SHE DOES NOT QUANTIFY THE SEXUAL ACTIVITIES SHE ENGAGES IN, BUT FOR ALL I KNOW THEY ARE INCIDENTAL TO HER WORK. ◊◊_`

“Why tell me, then?”

`_◊◊ LET ME PUT IT THIS WAY: ON RARE OCCASIONS SHE BRINGS HOME REAL MEAT, OR SUGAR, OR CHOCOLATE, AND I KNOW NOT TO ASK HOW SHE GOT THEM. THE FAVORS SHE OBTAINS, THE POLITICAL SECRETS SHE HINTS AT, THE WEAKNESSES SHE DESCRIBES…THEY DO NOT PAINT A PRETTY PICTURE OF THE PEOPLE WHO PURCHASE HER SERVICES. I HAVE BEEN SHOWN ENOUGH GLIMPSES OF HOW THEIR WORLD WORKS TO AVOID REMAINING ENTIRELY NAÏVE. ◊◊_`

“Ah. You know about having Friends In High Places, to a certain extent. I suppose that’s a little reassuring. And you chose idealism, in spite of all you have seen?”

`_◊◊ IT WAS THAT OR HEARTBREAK. ◊◊_`

“Fair enough.”


	31. In Which the Bridge has its Own Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: suicidal ideation.

`_◊◊ HURRY IT UP AND GET BACK ON THE BRIDGE. ◊◊_`

It was a rare clear night, this Saturday in early February. The moon, a mere waxing crescent, shone weakly upon the empty tower. Someone, whoever it was, perhaps McGonagall, had managed to repair the thing very quickly indeed.

The bridge, on this night, was still attached to the rock upon which the tower had stood. Violet had said that the next time the bridge would move was tomorrow. So, with three of Sparrow’s friends still occupied, Headmistress McGonagall away, Professors Clearwater and Slughorn currently supervising a more dangerous matter than mundane matters of broomsticks, and Professor Longbottom unable to stay awake this late, it was left to Sparrow, Jill, and Jocasta to handle the gathering of dew.

Jill and Jocasta were on the prototype longbroom, the one that only moved when four hands held it. Jill had wanted to be on her own broom, but as Miranda was now out of the picture, she had decided that it was up to her to make sure Jocasta had a steady platform. No sudden movements or slips. No sense dropping the bottle, eh?

As for Sparrow, she was standing right above them on the bridge, gathering what she could from the undersides of the railing, and keeping an eye on the two.

She was keeping her other eye on the sky, just in case Professor Clearwater appeared somewhere.

Currently Jocasta was standing on the end of the broom, so as to get at a particular patch on the side, which was vexing enough, moreso because Jill was letting it happen.

`_◊◊ JOCASTA! WILL YOU SIT YOUR ARSE DOWN! ◊◊_`

Jocasta smirked. “Yes, mistress."

“Relax," said Jill. “If she falls, I catch her. I know Levicorpus well enough."

`_◊◊ WELL I CAN’T DECIDE WHAT PERIL WE MIGHT BE IN, BUT YOU REALLY SHOULDN’T BE TAKING CHANCES HERE. ◊◊_`

“I’ll be fine," said Jocasta.

No sooner did she speak these words than the bridge began to move. Jocasta yelped, and, in attempting to sit down quickly, overbalanced and fell.

She was caught in a moment by Jill’s quick wandwork. But as her wand hand was thus occupied, and Jocasta's hands were nowhere near the broom, it was impossible for Jill to shift the broom away from the path of the approaching bridge.

Which is not to say she gave up trying. And indeed, as Jill pulled upward on the stick with all her might, the broom was rising millimeter by millimeter.

Unfortunately, this was not enough time to get clear, and now the bridge was sweeping the broom towards the cliff.

In that moment, Sparrow could not think what to do, save for tossing the Fetching Stick into the air once more and sending it off to get help. Who knew what sort of help would come in time? Meanwhile her girlfriends would either fall or be squashed if she couldn’t some up with something, and no matter what sort of shield she cast, it found no purchase on thin air.

And Jill had been able to catch Jocasta, certainly, but had not managed to develop any fine control over the spell, and the most she had been able to do was slowly draw Jocasta up to the broom itself, so that the girl could hang onto the end. This solved one problem, but until the girl was back on the broom, it couldn’t escape the closing trap. And Sparrow couldn’t buy them any more time.

Unless a shield which found no purchase on air could find purchase on itself.

Sparrow pointed her wand at the inside of the angle where the bridge was swinging toward the cliff, and cast the shield once more.

This time it was not a flat plane, nor a dome. It was a bubble, hanging in the air to the side of the bridge, swiftly caught by the closing angle and holding, sending the bridge to a shuddering halt –

As long as Sparrow herself could hold out. There was such a thing as jamming a door to keep it from closing, sure, but most people jammed the end with the lock, not the one with the hinge. That end tended to break whatever it caught, or at least mangle it. The shield charm was only holding for more than a fraction of a second because it was cast by Sparrow Jones. .

Yet even the Shield Maiden of Hogwarts would not last very long against the weight of an entire bridge. Her mind was already breaking from the strain. She shut her eyes, in a futile effort to ease her splitting headache.

By all that was holy, this bridge would not beat her. This was the life of her friends at stake. She was not going to lose any of them ever again. She would rather see this blasted bridge turned to splinters.

And maybe it would turn to splinters if she held on long enough. It sounded like it was cracking.

`_††††† OPEN YOUR EYES! †††††_`

`_◊◊ JILL? ◊◊_`

`_††††† I SAID OPEN YOUR EYES, DAMMIT! †††††_`

Sparrow opened her eyes.

The pain in her head was gone. Jocasta was back on the broom. Jill was pointing the grey wand at the same place Sparrow’s shield was holding. Her eyes were glowing red.

“I’ve got an idea," said Jocasta. “Jill, hand me your main wand if you please?"

`_††††† BIT BUSY! SORRY! †††††_`

“Then I shall have to risk getting burned," said Jocasta, and she had Jill’s wand out of the girl's pocket in a moment. She held it next to the bridge. “Sparrow, if you could toss your own wand my way?"

`_◊◊ AND LOSE THE SHIELD? ◊◊_`

“Trust me."

Sparrow tossed her wand out of her hand. It flew over the bridge and down to its place right beside Jill’s wand.

The glow from Jill’s eyes faded. All of a sudden she looked exhausted and confused. She shook her head rapidly and blinked. “Alright," she said, “now what?"

“We fly this thing out of the way," said Jocasta. “And then retrieve your wand."

“Wonderful," said Jill. “Sparrow threw away the only easy method of separating those things, and I am in no position to meditate."

“You can certainly try it!" said Jocasta.

Jill and Jocasta swung the broom around so that Jill had a hand on the wand, while Sparrow had a hand on her part of it, so that, when the wands came apart, they would not fall into the gorge and be lost. Jill closed her eyes and breathed slowly in and out, as she had practiced.

Perhaps it was a matter of the bridge being held in its halfway position for far too long, hanging with one end attached to nothing, such that when the wands separated, the bridge lost the only source of friction holding it up. Or, perhaps, it was simply that the bridge truly wanted to kill the children. Either way, Sparrow suddenly found herself accelerating downward along with the bridge, and in that very moment –

Perhaps it was that Sparrow had cast the spell alone, or perhaps it was Jill who had cast the spell along with her, if the results were any indication. Yet all Sparrow knew in that moment was that she, at least, had cast the one spell that had never failed her, the one she could cast nearly on instinct these days, almost as a reaction, a reflex – whatever it was, the bubble that appeared beneath the falling bridge expanded rapidly enough that it shattered the bridge beneath where Sparrow was standing, and sent her flying away from her friends.

It was somewhat pleasant to be soaring through the night sky. Less so to be falling while doing it. Oh well, maybe it would be nice to be a ghost. Maybe she could haunt the Minister of Magic to death. Or maybe she could haunt the disused courtyard. Or the tower. Not that anyone could get to it. Ah, and there was the massive crash of the bridge meeting the earth at last. She would not sound nearly as loud when she struck the earth, but the consequences would be far worse. Her shield spell could not save her now – It could stop a spell, it could stop a rock, but if it tried to stop the ground, the sudden stop from a fall this high would be the end of her anyway. What a pity, what a pity. The Shield Maiden of Hogwarts had discovered something her one mighty talent couldn’t save her from. So sad. It would be nice to be a ghost.

What was that red and green glow in the distance, and why was it getting close so quickly? Was there a meteor bearing down upon her, after everything else that happened?

Not quite. Jillian Patil and Jocasta Carrow came rocketing out of the darkness, one bathed in a red glow, the other glowing green, the end of their broom a roaring inferno. Jocasta put out her arms and snatched Sparrow right out of the air –

Which is to say, two girls crashed into a third at high speed, leaving the momentum of the three girls now much less than the broom itself, which shot out from under them and off into the distance, leaving three Wizards in midair with nothing but their wands to save them.

Sparrow thought it was a pleasant thing to be here in midair with the people she loved. Would have been nicer if they’d been on a broom, or maybe a bridge or a rock or something, midair was frightfully cold. Goodness, it was windy too. Where was that wind coming from? It was coming from below. Why was it coming from below?

And why was it stopping? And who was shouting at her? Didn’t sound like Jill. Levi-something? Well that was a new one to her, no wait, she’d just been thinking of casting it tonight when –

The full weight of the situation came back to Sparrow when she touched lightly down upon the earth and discovered that she was in a position which made it very clear that there was something very wrong with her shoulder.

Which is to say, her mind was filled with a silent scream.

“Ow!" said Violet's voice. “Goodness, I can barely cast a spell with that noise ringing between my ears."

`_◊◊ VIOLET? ◊◊_`

“Surprise."

There before her stood Violet and Cormac, both looking like a great wind had mussed their hair. Which it probably had, since they were both holding brooms.

`_◊◊ HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO FIND US OUT HERE? ◊◊_`

Violet grinned. “The Fetching Stick knows what it’s about. A very good dog indeed. Too bad I can’t give it a scratch behind the ears, but maybe it enjoys being thrown."

“She’s in pain," said Cormac. “Please be serious."

“What, is it that bad? It doesn’t look bad."

“Hardly for you to judge! It’s not your collarbone." He fished in his pocket. “Also you can’t see what happened under the skin there but when Jill and Jocasta caught her – you two aren’t screaming in pain so I’ll get to you next – what on earth were you thinking anyway?"

“Catch Sparrow," said Jill.

“More painful than we expected," said Jocasta.

Cormac took a disc of glass out of his pocket. Its outer rim was wrapped in gold, and the metal was etched with tiny runes. “Catch Sparrow. At high speed without even trying to slow down. Or casting a cushioning charm in the first place." He peered through the disc at Sparrow’s shoulder. “Hrm, yep. Broken collarbone. Cracked in a few places but not – oh goodness, this one is broken clean through. Violet, go and fetch Madame Abbot on the double."

Professor Clearwater’s feet thumped heavily as she landed on the earth right next to Cormac, who jumped, and dropped his glass disc.

Unfortunately Sparrow was startled as well, and her sudden movement caused her a fresh wave of pain, which had everyone clapping their hands over their ears in a futile effort to block their headaches. That is, until Jocasta pointed her wand at Sparrow’s shoulder and said, _“Ossium Emendo!_ "

The pain vanished, along with the screaming, leaving only faint echoes in Sparrow's mind.

She lay on Jocasta’s lap and and looked up at the sky, preferring to let the sound of her companions drown the echoes out.

“I imagine," said Professor Clearwater, “That you are not relishing the idea of having to explain these injuries to the Hospital Wing, nor having to explain why you use such a tricky healing spell when _Brackium Emendo_ works as well."

Jocasta shook her head. “I would rather keep my mouth shut about both things. But as for the risky choice, I prefer something that works in moments rather than hours. Cormac, what are you doing with that glass? I don’t need any mending myself. Go check on Jill."

“You sure don’t," said Cormac. “How on earth did you avoid breaking any bones?"

“I didn’t. Will you _please_ check on Jill?"

“Of course, of course."

“My injury isn’t that bad," said Jill. “I just can’t move my arm. And it hurts, quite a bit. Ow. But for a Quidditch player who has Bludgers flying at them all the time, this is hardly a new experience. I can bear the pain."

“Let me see," said Cormac, “let me see. Ah, multiple fractures as well, in the upper arm. Easier to deal with than the collarbone, I suppose, but still a problem. Not something you should ignore, Tough Girl."

“I’m not dumb enough to ignore it, it’s just that Sparrow and Jocasta here had the worst of it because of my panic. So maybe I’m more concerned about the well-being of my girlfriends because I need to be."

“Enough of tearing yourself down," said Jocasta. “Let me see your arm, please. Thank you. Ossium Emendo!"

Within a few seconds Jill could move her arm as well as she ever could. She swung it around a few times just to be sure, ignoring Jocasta’s protests. “It’s fine," said Jill. “You’re really good at this."

“Yeah," said Cormac. “About that. Isn’t bone-healing N.E.W.T.-level magic?"

“It most certainly is," said Professor Clearwater. “I am most curious as to how you have mastered it already."

“I’ve had practice," said Jocasta.

“And you’ve had practice keeping your mouth shut while your bones are broken?"

“Plenty of practice with that."

“That spell you used," said Violet. “They only use it at Saint Mungo’s when they have no time for something slower and safer. It’s way too easy to mist-cast and cause too much bone to grow. How on earth did you hear about it?"

“Now there’s a good question," said Miranda, as she hopped off her broom. “Let us say, we are all terribly precocious."

“You!" said Jocasta. “You are supposed to be brewing a potion!"

“So am I," said Cormac. “And so is Violet here."

“Oh wonderful," said Professor Clearwater. “You’re all here. I shall go and inform the others where you are." She climbed onto her broom.

“Wait," said Jocasta.

“Hm?"

“If you knew the bridge was dangerous, why couldn’t you watch us?"

“Two visions," said Professor Clearwater. “One of a collapsing bridge, one of an exploding potion. Hard choice of priorities. I had to trust that you three wouldn’t be quite so reckless. Maybe I ought to insist on that more often. At the very least, I do insist on you sticking together, so as to save me from further headaches. And then maybe we can send that wonderful stick of yours towards someone else who can help, not just me." She took off without another word.

Sparrow watched her go, feeling very much like a teacher who had been reprimanded for the actions of the students under her charge.

“Catch," said Miranda.

The Fetching Stick flew into Sparrow’s hand, shaking her out of her reverie.

“Potion," said Jocasta. “Where is it. Did it work."

Miranda took a glass bottle out of her pocket, filled with a golden liquid that glowed. “Finished, not sure if it worked yet. Maybe we have to wait. My arm feels a little better."

“You had enough time to make it after all. Thank goodness."

“I wouldn’t say that," said Cormac.

“Explain."

“By the time Professor Clearwater came running in the potion was as golden as Miranda wanted, but we couldn’t put the finishing the touches in that Slughorn recommended. Maybe that ruined it? No way to tell yet."

Jocasta rested her face in her palm. “Great."

“It is not as though you needed me that much," said Miranda. “As far as I can tell, you mastered that particular bone-healing spell over a month ago."

“Oh," said Cormac. “You knew about this, then."

“I suggested it to her in the first place. I have been practicing the slower version for quite some time – "

“What!"

“ – to heal the mice I rescue from traps now and then. Or trying to practice, it's delicate wandwork and I couldn't get it any better than I can do anything else with the wand, but, you know, the mouse will die if I do nothing, so I keep trying and getting nowhere, and then Jocasta helps me figure out what I'm doing wrong, so then I asked her if she could do it faster and...I am rambling. My apologies."

“And you mastered it in that space of time?" said Cormac.

Miranda shook her head. "Jocasta did. I did not. It works half the time for me. I don't dare try it on any creature that can speak."

"My my my," said Violet. "How long have you two known each other?"

Jocasta shrugged. "Couple months, why?"

"You mastered a spell like that in a _couple months._ Good heavens. Why have you not mastered every spell in the book by now?"

"Because have been practicing that specific subject for many years, and only that specific subject, and don’t ask me why, thank you very much."

“But where – "

Jocasta's eyes flashed green. `_• DON’T EVER ASK. YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE ANSWER. •_`

“Try me."

“Not a chance," said Jocasta. “Miranda – "

“You didn’t cause me any trouble tonight," said Miranda. “I am sorry that I pushed you away earlier." Miranda glanced at Cormac, who was giving her an expectant look. “That was deliberate. I didn’t want you to worry about me. Clearly that was a miscalculation on my part."

“It’s fine," said Jocasta. She looked away.

“Is it?"

Jocasta said nothing.

“I am sorry that I could not be here for you tonight."

“Hard to be here for me when you needed to make that potion," said Jocasta. “For what it’s worth – I can’t hate you, Miranda. Certainly not after how you and Jill saved me. And I have my loved ones here, and that is enough. I’m safe, Jill is safe, Sparrow is – Sparrow? Oh dear."

Goodness, the stars were getting wavy and watery.

Jocasta helped Sparrow back to a sitting position. “Don’t want to be crying while you’re laying back, girl. You might choke on snot there. Are you alright?"

`_◊◊ ALRIGHT? HOW COULD I POSSIBLY BE ALRIGHT? IT HAS BEEN AN AWFUL DAY. I ALMOST LOST YOU. AGAIN. ◊◊_`

`_• YOU ALMOST LOST YOUR COLLARBONE. I THINK THAT’S MORE IMPORTANT HERE. •_`

`_◊◊ DON’T SAY THAT! DON’T YOU EVER SAY THAT! I CAN REPLACE A GODDAMN COLLARBONE! I CAN’T REPLACE YOU! ◊◊_`

`_• I – SPARROW, I’M SORRY. •_`

`_◊◊ WHY ARE YOU SO RECKLESS? DO YOU CARE ABOUT YOUR LIFE? ◊◊_`

`_• I DON’T KNOW. •_`

`_◊◊ WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW? ◊◊_`

`_• I JUST DON’T, OKAY? IT’S NOT A BIG DEAL. •_`

`_◊◊ HOW COULD IT POSSIBLY NOT BE A BIG DEAL? YOU ALMOST DIED. ◊◊_`

`_• AND I ALMOST GOT YOU KILLED, BACK IN DECEMBER. FAIR’S FAIR, RIGHT? •_`

`_◊◊ NO! NEITHER OF THOSE ARE FAIR! I DON’T WANT TO LOSE YOU! DON’T YOU GET IT? I COULD HAVE CALLED YOU A SWORN ENEMY FOR THE WAY YOU GOT ME STUCK IN THE FORBIDDEN FOREST BUT I DIDN’T BECAUSE I WANT TO HAVE YOU AROUND! I LIKE HAVING YOU BY MY SIDE! I LIKE BEING BY YOUR SIDE! ◊◊_`

`_• I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY. •_`

`_◊◊ YOU KNOW WHY. I TOLD YOU ALREADY. ◊◊_`

`_• OH, FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR GRAND QUEST? •_`

`_◊◊ NO. BECAUSE YOU TRUST ME. BECAUSE YOU LOVE ME. AND YOU LOVE JILL. YOU KEEP BOTH OF US ON EARTH. SO WHY – ◊◊_`

`_• SOMETIMES THERE’S NO GOOD ANSWER, SPARROW. SOMETIMES THERE’S ONLY BAD ONES. ONE OF THE BAD ANSWERS CAUGHT UP WITH ME TONIGHT, IN A BAD PLACE. I STOPPED CARING FOR JUST LONG ENOUGH THAT I COULDN’T SAVE MYSELF. •_`

`_◊◊ THIS ALL SOUNDS LIKE A BIG DEAL. ◊◊_`

`_• YEAH, WELL, NOW THAT I DESCRIBE IT LIKE THAT, IT SOUNDS BAD. BUT HEY, I’VE SURVIVED THIS LONG! •_`

`_◊◊ BUT WILL YOU? ◊◊_`

`_• AS LONG AS YOU’RE AROUND, MAYBE. CLEARLY YOU WON’T LET ME DIE. •_`

Jill had not spoken as she rose, nor as she had dusted herself off. She did not speak as she gathered both Sparrow and Jocasta into a fierce embrace. Perhaps she did not need to. Nor did Cormac or Violet, when they joined the hug, nor did Miranda when she put an arm around them all.

At least not until Violet said, “Were were not supposed to hear that conversation?"

“Nope," said Jocasta, as they all separated.

“Well," said Violet, “maybe if we figure out this Sending thing we can figure out how to make that reliable. I am assuming you don’t want any commentary then."

Jocasta shook her head.

“I have but one question," said Miranda. “Jocasta, remind me how well you do in Care of Magical Creatures?"

“Not very well."

“And why?" Miranda gave her a searching look, as if to imply she knew the answer.

“That’s two questions." `_• I MISTREAT THE ANIMALS SO THEY’LL BITE ME SO THAT I CAN GET A HORRIBLE INFECTION AND – •_`“Stop that!"

“Hm. I thought as much. I really should have seen this sooner."

“Seen what!"

“Suicidal ideations. This is a job for Madame Pomfrey. Or…maybe Slughorn, depending. Or both, probably. If you wish to take the Draught of Peace, it will take both of them to make a proper dosage."

“Oh what," said Jocasta, “You’re going to try to fix me, is that it?"

Miranda’s eyes flashed blue.

`_°°° JOCASTA, MY DEAR GIRL. I HAVE BEEN SUBJECTED TO OVERT OFFERS TO FIX ME PLENTY OF TIMES. WE HAVE DISCUSSED THIS. YOU OUGHT TO EXPECT I WOULD AVOID SUBJECTING YOU TO ANYTHING WITHOUT YOUR CONSENT. I APOLOGIZE FOR INSINUATING THAT I WOULD OVERRIDE YOUR WILL. DO YOU TRUST ME? °°°_`

`_• ALWAYS. •_`

`_°°° ARE YOU WILLING TO ACCEPT MY AID? °°°_`

`_• I WOULD HAVE TO BELIEVE THERE’S ACTUALLY A PROBLEM HERE. SO, MAYBE. •_`

Miranda let out a deep breath. “Let us figure out a way into the castle, then, and get back to bed. There has been quite enough excitement for one day, thank you very much."

“And let us remember," said Cormac, “that we are here for each other. Jocasta, if you do wish to talk about what you’re going through, please feel free."

Jocasta glanced at Jill, then at Sparrow, before fixing Cormac with a steady gaze. "There is only so much I would tell you. But I can offer scant details tomorrow during library time. As for now, now is bedtime."

`_◊◊ I THINK WE’RE GOING TO BE BUSY BEFORE BEDTIME JUST A BIT LONGER. ◊◊_`

For a great portion of the castle was also out of bed, visible in lit windows and on battlements, having heard the almighty crash of hundreds of tons of metal and wood. And a fair few of those people had by now managed to reach Sparrow and her friends. First of all came Hagrid, who had seen the whole mess happening in front of him and had been running to the place he saw the red and green lights fall to earth. For a great portion of the castle was also out of bed, visible in lit windows and on battlements, having heard the almighty crash of hundreds of tons of metal and wood. And a fair few of those people had by now managed to reach Sparrow and her friends. Close behind him came Professor Budge, followed by Madame Abbot, Professor Longbottom, and Professor Clearwater.

Everyone was relieved to discover that the children were alright. It took some time to explain that the whole thing had happened because Jill and Sparrow forgot how powerful a spell they cast together could be, and that they had been very lucky for having Professor Clearwater to keep an eye on things, but besides Sparrow’s broken finger there had not been a great deal of damage to anyone, and anyway Jocasta had healed that quite nicely, no trouble at all, thank you, just some scrapes and bruises to show for it, sorry to cause such a disturbance, someone should really have considered fixing that awful bridge to a more sensible time schedule.

All of the children got some Pepper-up Potion from Madame Abbot, for they were all cold and wet. Jocasta got a scolding from Madame Abbot for even thinking of trying to heal a bone fracture at her age, and some grudging praise for managing it without causing greater injury. Likewise Jill and Sparrow got a hundred fifty house points taken away from Hufflepuff for destroying a portion of the castle. Sparrow earned one hundred points for managing to briefly halt an entire swinging bridge with a simple shield spell.

If anyone wondered why Sparrow’s cries of pain sounded quite a bit louder than they should have for a broken finger, well, nobody said anything. They were just relieved to see that everyone was alive. Annoyed, exasperated, yes, but relieved.

If Professor Clearwater took offense to the little white lie about how much damage Sparrow had actually suffered, she did not show it.

And so the children were led back to the castle, adults close at their side, and all the castle went back to their rooms to have whatever peace was left to them this night.

...

That night in the Sixth girls dormitory, there were three girls to a bed. Admittedly the room only had one bed, but if there had been twenty, the three would have been in one anyway. Two objecting to the protests of one, who was now between them, the two with their arms draped over her as if to keep her there forever.

Yet, at a certain point in the evening, Jocasta shrugged their arms off anyway, and strode to the door.

The remaining two girls noticed at the same time. Sparrow dashed to the door and stood in front of it.

“Let me go," said Jocasta, glaring down at Sparrow.

Jill came up behind her. “I wouldn’t object, as long as I was permitted to go with you. Will you let me?"

Jocasta turned and glared at Jill. “Leave me be."

“Why?"

“Because. Just forget it, okay? I’m fine."

“After all we’ve talked about, after all that’s happened this evening, after all that’s happened today, you think you’re fine?"

“Well…no. But I’m fine right now."

“I doubt even that. What’s got into you?"

“Nothing!" Jocasta folded her arms. “Everything is fine. I’m just an idiot who ruined a healing potion of someone I care about."

“You kinds of sound like you’re in a position to let yourself get nudged over the edge again."

“Not like I could. Although if I did, I suppose I would go splat after all."

“You wouldn’t transfigure yourself to safety?"

“Can’t."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know. Maybe can't is won't. I don't want to transfigure myself anymore. Ever since that business with the spider. I don’t…even know what I am anymore. You know? Transfiguration was everything to me and in a little moment I ruined it."

`_◊◊ WHAT, DID YOU GO IN THERE HOPING TO GET CAUGHT? ◊◊_`

“No I didn’t, I just – " `_• YES. •_`

`_◊◊ I DID WONDER WHY A GIRL WHO HAD SURVIVED FOR FOUR-ODD YEARS AS A FRAGILE INSECT WOULD SUDDENLY BE LAID LOW BY A THING SHE KNEW WAS DANGEROUS. ◊◊_`

“What’s it to you?"

`_◊◊ EVERYTHING. ◊◊_`

`_††††† EVERYTHING. †††††_`

“Well, I’m nothing now."

“Excuse me?" said Jill. “The girl who masters a bone-mending spell at age 14 is nothing?"

“I don’t even count that one."

“Why would you not – "

“Because you know exactly where all my practice for that sort of spell came from, Jill, and if I was going to call that a matter of pride I’d think I was forgiving – never mind. Look, all I want to do is take a walk through the halls in darkness and clear my head."

“And possibly fall over a staircase railing?"

“No!" `_MAYBE._`

“Maybe I should come with you."

Jocasta shook her head.

“Then maybe you should stay here."

Jocasta shook her head again.

“Look, last time you wandered around the school at night you almost died and tonight you almost died again. I’m not going to let that happen a third time. If you believe at all that it was right for me to save you either time, you will let me come with you."

Jocasta huffed. “You’re being overdramatic here."

“I have every right to be! What do I have to do to keep you by my side? French kiss you for twenty minutes? Hug you and never let go?"

“You wouldn’t be hugging anything, would you? I’m nothing."

`_◊◊ YOU ARE DISCOUNTING YOURSELF MORE THAN YOU REALIZE, MY DEAR. ◊◊_`

“How do you mean?"

`_◊◊ ARE YOU NOT ONE OF THE TWO TOP DUELISTS IN THE ENTIRE SCHOOL? ◊◊_`

“That comes from a bad place too."

`_◊◊ AND IT IS ALSO HOW YOU MET JILL. IT BECAME A GOOD THING AFTER ALL. AND THINK OF IT – YOUR TRANSFIGURATION SKILL CAME FROM YOUR FATHER, AND LIKEWISE IT BECAME A GOOD THING. I AM TAKING A WILD GUESS THAT THE BUSINESS WITH BONES CAME FROM THE SAME PLACE – ◊◊_`

“Do NOT go there."

`_◊◊ —AND IT ALSO BECAME A GOOD THING. THESE GREAT SKILLS – ◊◊_`

`_• I SAID DON’T GO THERE! •_`

For a moment there was only silence.

`_• I’M SORRY. •_`

`_◊◊ I THINK MY TRANSGRESSION HERE IS GREATER THAN YOURS. ◊◊_`

`_• YOU SEE THE LINE I TOLD YOU NOT TO CROSS? •_`

`_◊◊ MORE CLEARLY THAN BEFORE. WHAT HAPPENS IF I CROSS THAT LINE? ◊◊_`

`_• I WEEP FOR YOUR PAIN, WHEN YOU SEE WHAT HORROR LURKS WITHIN MY MEMORY. •_`

`_◊◊ JOCASTA, WHAT THE HELL DID YOUR FATHER DO TO YOU? ◊◊_`

Jocasta sighed. She shook her head, then linked arms with Jill and nodded to the door.

Sparrow stepped away at last.

The space that showed through the doorway was the Hufflepuff common room. No reason to expect anything else, yes? But as Jill saw fit to lead the way, she vanished in the moment that she was over the threshold, before Jocasta had crossed it – for the Hufflepuff common room was replaced by the Slytherin common room.

Sparrow peered through the doorway into the sudden gloom of a room she had never seen and had never been allowed to see. It was a curious contrast to the Hufflepuff common room – where hers contained many silver fixtures that caught even the slightest bit of starlight, lending an air of home and comfort to all but the darkest nights, the Slytherin common room saw fit to have a hearth fire burning all night – surely a touch of home in its own way? And yet, with no other light in the room, with the firelight playing over the silver fixtures, with their shadows dancing upon the walls, it all looked sinister enough.

To the tall blonde lass sitting before the fire, the place must have felt like home. What could she think, then, when a sudden silver light shone upon the masonry above the fireplace, pouring out from a door that she had never seen before? Perhaps it was as sinister to her as the hearth fire was to Sparrow.

And the fact that two people were standing in that doorway – what could she think of that? And that one of them was whispering furiously to the open air?

And if the poor girl before the fireplace could hear just what Jocasta whispered, she would be even more confused. “You will let me through," whispered the mysterious girl in the doorway. What on earth could that mean? The doorway was open, surely? How on earth were these sinister figures blocked? Had they opened up a door hoping for passage to one place, and got another, after all? Or was she speaking to the person she could see in the room, the girl who was before the fire, clearly visible? Asking to be let through – as if blocked by some castle ward, and only needed to be invited in – was she a vampire? The girl by the hearth fire was frozen in place, not daring to move.

Did the eyes of vampires glow green? No, they glowed red, right? Whatever this apparition was – wait, what was she saying? “You will let me through to the Hufflepuff Common Room or I will tell the school administration that this doorway exists."

In that instant, from Sparrow’s perspective, the Slytherin Common Room was replaced by the sight of Jillian Patil, eyes glowing red as brightly as Jocasta’s glowed green. Perhaps from the perspective of the girl in the Slytherin common room, her fright had been replaced by confusion as the door vanished.

And as for anyone in the Hufflepuff Common room – Thank goodness there was none but Jill, nobody else to wonder what on earth a girl was doing, appearing out of the wall and then turning back to whisper furious curses at it.

Jill’s eyes ceased glowing at the sight of Jocasta. She grabbed the Slytherin girl – the proper one, her Slytherin girl this time – and dragged her through the doorway before it could change its infernal mind.

Leaving Sparrow behind once again.

She flopped onto the bed and thought of nothing except grumbling, for a while. Then she settled herself under the covers and thought of grumbling at Jocasta when she returned.

But as she relaxed, and considered the horrible day, she felt grateful to have magic around. If there was no such thing, why then, Jocasta would have died long ago, and Miranda would have died today. Surely letting everyone have some would save more lives. Then again, considering how foolish she had been today – she and Jill and Jocasta together – perhaps letting nitwits like her have access to magic was a bad idea after all. The day’s events would not have happened without them – not the transfigured villagers, not the decaying shoulder, not the moving bridge, not the broken bridge, not the broken collarbone. None of it.

And yet. If for whatever reason Jocasta had been on a bridge anyway, she may very well have stumbled off it for lack of care, magic or no magic, and then – there would have been no catching her at all.

Might as well look on the positive side of this whole business, then, and think about how to educate people in it, as a body of students far larger than anything Hogwarts ever handled. Ah, but that was a question for the coming years. For now, the first thing to do was survey everyone.

As in, everyone in the entire world.

Without being caught.

What a goal to set, eh?

Ah, but that was later and away. In the here and now, her girlfriends – plural? Yes? – were out for a long time. Sparrow began to wonder what was taking them. She began to worry. She should not have let them go after all. Jocasta must have gotten herself in trouble again. But why did no silent scream come to her mind, from either girl? Did both girls get themselves killed in a moment? Would they come to her side as ghosts?

Sparrow was about to throw the covers off and dash out the door when it opened. Here came Jocasta and Jill, arms linked as they had been, faces no longer lined with worry, eyes no longer glowing. Jocasta settled herself under the covers and snuggled up next to Sparrow. Jill went to the window and sat upon the windowsill, looking out upon – nothing, perhaps. The windowpane still did not permit real viewing. Sparrow wondered what it would, if it could. Perhaps it could not.

At long last Jill came back to bed, and settled herself under the covers, on Jocasta’s other side, and snuggled up close to her.

And Sparrow began to drift off to sleep again.

But Jocasta had one last thing to say.

`_• SPARROW? •_`

`_◊◊ HM? ◊◊_`

`_• DO YOU THINK I NEED FIXING? •_`

`_◊◊ OH, GOODNESS. PERHAPS WE ALL DO. MAYBE EVEN CORMAC. HE DID THE EYE THING TOO, DIDN’T HE. ALRIGHT, THAT’S FIVE FOR THE REPAIR SHOP. ◊◊_`

`_††††† HEY. †††††_`

`_◊◊ WHAT. ◊◊_`

`_ HEALING.  NOT FIXING. WE’RE HUMAN BEINGS. NOT LAMP STANDS. AND NOBODY CAN FORCE A HEART INTO BEING HEALED. MY FATHER ALWAYS TOLD ME THAT YOU CAN’T GIVE SOMEONE THERAPY WITHOUT THEIR CONSENT. †††††_`

`_• WHAT, IS IT ILLEGAL? •_`

`_††††† I MEAN IT’S IMPOSSIBLE. †††††_`

`_◊◊ A MATTER OF CHOICE, YOU MEAN. ◊◊_`

`_††††† BINGO. †††††_`

`_◊◊ AND JOCASTA, I IMAGINE THAT YOUR OWN HEART BROKE BECAUSE CHOICE WAS TAKEN FROM YOU AT A TENDER AGE. ◊◊_`

`_• IF THAT WAS ALL, EVERY CHILD WOULD HAVE A BROKEN HEART. •_`

`_◊◊ WHAT THEN? ◊◊_`

`_• AHEM. •_`

`_◊◊ RIGHT. LOCKED DOOR. VERY WELL. TELL ME IF AND WHEN YOU WANT TO OPEN IT. IN THE MEANTIME – WE WILL ALL HAVE TO DO WHAT WE CAN FOR EACH OTHER. WHATEVER WE CAN. ◊◊_`

`_• YOU BOTH DO MUCH FOR ME. MORE THAN I DESERVE. AFTER WHAT I DID TO MIRANDA – •_`

` HEY. †††††`

`_• WHAT? •_`

`_††††† YOU REMEMBER KISSING PRACTICE WITH SPARROW IN THE DUNGEONS, RIGHT? †††††_`

`_• HOW COULD I FORGET. •_`

` _ ††††† AND WHAT DID SPARROW SAY ABOUT DESERVING? ††††† _ `

`_• I HARDLY RECALL. •_`

`_◊◊ I SAID, WHO WOULD EITHER OF US BE IF WE SAW FIT TO DECIDE WHAT YOU DID AND DIDN’T DESERVE? WE’D BE JUST AS AWFUL AS THAT PERSON I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO MEET. ◊◊_`

`_††††† THERE ARE TIMES WHEN SUCH JUDGMENTS HAVE TO BE MADE. BUT LOVE TENDS TO TOSS THAT QUESTION OUT THE WINDOW. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT’S A MATTER OF SOMEONE’S SURVIVAL. †††††_`

`_• I FIND THAT HARD TO UNDERSTAND. •_`

`_††††† THINK OF IT THIS WAY: DO YOU LOVE ME? †††††_`

`_• YOU KNOW IT. •_`

`_††††† AND DO YOU LOVE SPARROW? †††††_`

`_• YES. •_`

`_††††† AND WE BOTH LOVE YOU AS MUCH AS WE LOVE EACH OTHER. WHAT DO YOU THINK I WOULD DO IF YOU OR SPARROW WERE TO DIE? †††††_`

`_• BLOW EVERYTHING INTO TINY PIECES? •_`

`_††††† I WOULD SPARE THE SCHOOL AT LEAST. NOW, WHAT DO YOU THINK SPARROW WOULD DO IF YOU OR I DIED? †††††_`

`_◊◊ TURN INTO A LITTLE BIRD FOREVER, AND FLY AWAY TO THE STARS. ◊◊_`

`_• EQUALLY TRAGIC OPTIONS. WHAT ARE YOU GETTING AT? •_`

`_◊◊ IF YOU LOVE SOMEONE YOU HELP THEM SURVIVE. NO CONDITION, NO BARGAINING, NO MEASUREMENT OF DESERVING. NOT OUT OF RIGHT OR WRONG. NOT OUT OF OBLIGATION. JUST OUT OF ATTACHMENT. AND THAT’S ENOUGH. ◊◊_`

`_• BUT IF I’M A HORRIBLE PERSON – •_`

`_††††† THEN MAYBE WE CAN BE HORRIBLE TOGETHER. †††††_`

`_• I COULDN’T DO THAT TO YOU. •_`

`_††††† COULD YOU STOP US? †††††_`

`_• WELL NOW YOU’RE JUST BEING PUSHY. •_`

`_††††† ANSWER THE QUESTION. COULD YOU STOP US FROM LOVING YOU? †††††_`

`_• YOU’RE MAKING THIS SOUND LIKE THE KIND OF ROMANCE WHERE SOME TWERP DOESN’T STOP SENDING YOU LOVE LETTERS. •_`

`_††††† FAIR POINT. BUT YOU KNOW SPARROW HATES ROMANCE. †††††_`

`_◊◊ SAPPY NONSENSE POORLY COMMUNICATED UNTIL YOU SEND SOMEONE A DOZEN FLOWERS THAT THEY DIDN’T WANT. ◊◊_`

`_• DIDN’T YOU BREAK UP WITH COLIN RUSKIN OVER THAT? •_`

`_◊◊ HE COULDN’T UNDERSTAND WHY I WAS MAD AT HIM. SO I KNEW THAT HE WAS LOVESTRUCK AND NOT THINKING STRAIGHT. ◊◊_`

`_• YEAH, AND THEN YOU TURNED DOWN FELICITY CHO LAST YEAR – ◊◊_`

`_◊◊ SHE WAS BLAMING ME FOR THE FACT THAT SHE FELL IN LOVE. ◊◊_`

`_• OH, IS THAT WAS IT WAS. YOU LEFT ME WONDERING IF I HAD A CHANCE AT ALL. •_`

`_◊◊ IS THAT WHY YOU DRAGGED ME INTO AN ALCOVE AND KISSED ME WITHOUT ASKING? JUST TO GET OVER YOUR CONFUSION? ◊◊_`

`_• AMONG OTHER REASONS. I THINK YOU WERE LEADING ME ON SINCE OCTOBER. •_`

`_◊◊ NO, SEE, NOW YOU’RE BLAMING ME FOR YOUR OWN FEELINGS LIKE FELICITY DID. WHAT I’M TRYING TO GET AT IS – IF SOMEONE LOVES YOU IT’S THEIR RESPONSIBILITY. THEIR FEELINGS TO DEAL WITH. RIGHT? ◊◊_`

`_• FINE. SO WHAT? •_`

`_◊◊ SO – SO – SO I DON’T KNOW. I’M FALLING ASLEEP. ◊◊_`

`_• YOU’RE LEAVING ME HANGING HERE. •_`

`_◊◊ DON’T EVEN JOKE ABOUT THAT. ◊◊_`

`_††††† JOCASTA – DO YOU LOVE ME? †††††_`

`_• FROM NOW UNTIL THE END OF ALL THINGS. •_`

`_††††† BUT I’M ALSO A HORRIBLE PERSON. †††††_`

`_• SO? •_`

`_††††† SO, THERE YOU GO. I MEAN – †††††_`

`_◊◊ YOU DON’T HAVE TO EARN LOVE. ◊◊_`

`_• WHAT!? •_`

`_◊◊ LOVE ISN’T SOMETHING YOU CAN EARN. •_`

`_• THEN WHAT IS IT? •_`

`_◊◊ A GIFT. GIVEN FREELY. ◊◊_`

`_††††† TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT. †††††_`

`_• I TAKE. AND I GIVE YOU MY OWN. •_`

`_◊◊ THEN, IF YOU ARE HORRIBLE AS YOU SAY, THEN LET US BE HORRIBLE TOGETHER. ◊◊_`

`_• AS YOU WISH, MY DEARS. AS YOU WISH. •_`

Sleep came at last, and a peaceful end to an awful day.


	32. So This is What it Takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The children research their way into answering a vexing question.

Sunday morning in the library. Normally Sparrow would be flanking Violet in order to read the book she had open, but today, she had a tight hold on Jocasta’s right hand, and Jill had Jocasta's other hand. Violet and Miranda were at one end of the table, Cormac at the other.

Violet was twirling a curious flower in her hand, one whose petals perfectly matched the color of her clothing. Sparrow rarely saw the like, save in the scant weeks between the season of rain and the season of sun, where the blooms blanketed the hills. Yet those weeks were far off, hard to imagine here in the midst of misery. So where had she got that flower? Miranda’s garden, perhaps? Or it could be that the girl had already got into the advanced spells for transfiguration, which was, for Violet, highly probable.

As for Cormac, he had his elbows propped on the table, fingers laced together, face resting on his hands, eyes focused in a pose of troubled contemplation. He had been highly attentive when Jocasta had let out what details she was willing to divulge of her thought processes, concerned when Jocasta had admitted that her actions were likely death-seeking, and then looked seriously disturbed when the girl had stated that the matter likely rested on a set of topics she dared not reveal. Whatever his thoughts on the matter, he had not revealed them yet.

“Here we go,” said Miranda, flipping open ,em>Granger And Snape’s Advanced Basic Potions</em> to page 53. “A recipe for the Draught of Peace which should avoid some of the trickier parts of the normal method. Assuming we can get our hands on Bottled Sunlight.”

Jocasta rolled her eyes. “Can’t we talk about other things? Like the fact that you haven’t even mastered the vanishing spell yet.”

“Oh,” said Cormac finally letting a wry grin come back to his face, “Now who’s the overeager nerd?”

“There is something I wanted to consider,” said Violet, “outside our O.W.L. topics. This whole speaking-silently thing. One might call it a mind link, or some manner of reverse legilimency. But we don’t know how it works. We don’t know if it’s ever been done before.”

“Well,” said Jill. “I suppose we’re in the right place to look.”

Violet placed the flower in her shirt pocket, ducked under the table, and brought up a huge book, which she let fall on the tabletop with a thud. “Already did. This is a short treatise on the subject. Comparatively short. I was able to skim it fairly quickly. And what do you think I came up with?”

“What?” said everyone.

Violet slapped the cover and said, “Nothing! In the entire study of legilimency there is nothing about deliberately sending information to people. It’s always about taking information from someone’s head. A very nasty business, and if an incompetent wizard does it it’s also incredibly painful.”

Jocasta shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”

“So this is a different business then,” said Cormac. “Sending, not receiving. I wonder…it does remind me of something. Hang on.” He rose from the table and disappeared into the stacks.

Miranda looked concerned. “Jocasta,” she said, “did someone try to perform legilimency on you?”

`_• LET US NOT DISCUSS THE MORE INTIMATE DETAILS OF MY PRIVATE GRIEFS IN AN OPEN LIBRARY. •_`

“Understood,” said Miranda. “Although I should note that such a response is, in itself, fairly telling. You must be more circumspect about how you obfuscate your past.”

“I can be ofuscatory,” said Jocasta. `_• BUT THERE ARE TIMES WHEN I PREFER TO BE SINCERE.• “Quiet, brain.”_`

` __ `

Cormac returned with another heavy tome, which he placed on the table with a thump. “Here,” he said, “records of the Wizarding Wars. Volume 2. I remember coming across this particular passage a few years ago.” He opened the book and flipped to page 375. The page, as with every page, was covered in miniscule writing, but there was an offset block of text near the bottom of the page, and Cormac pointed to that. “From the diary of Albus Dumbledore,” said Cormac.

` __ `

The passage read:

` __ `

I dare not tell the boy everything. For his mind is linked to Voldemort’s. What he knows, Voldemort knows. To an extent. I have tried to teach the boy Occlumency and it has been fruitless. I am disappointed in him. Perhaps it was a bad idea to have Snape do the job. But Snape is our best occlumens, second only to me.

` __ `

The part of Voldemort’s soul that lies within the boy establishes the link. We must find a way to block that link, or who knows, Voldemort may learn about the link, and may send him a nightmare, or a falsehood. It is an incredible vulnerability, one we cannot shield with walls of stone and doors of iron. To shield it we will have to rely upon the strength of the boy’s will and his ability to learn. Even from a professor he despises.

` __ `

Maybe I should have picked the third-best occlumens we have, but Professor Slughorn is nowhere to be found lately. This is an unsolveable dilemma. Alas for Harry, that he had to become a Horcrux. Alas that I cannot tell him, for if he knows, Voldemort knows. I wonder if, one day, he will forgive me for my silence.

` __ `

“A…Horcrux,” said Jocasta. “Cool. I’ve seen one of those.” She glanced up at the rest of her comrades, who were sitting there silent, staring at Jocasta in wonder and horror. “What?”

` __ `

“Jocasta…” Cormac glanced nervously at everyone else. “Do you know how a Horcrux is made?”

` __ `

“I didn’t ask.”

` __ `

“Are you being absolutely serious?”

` __ `

“Yes!” `_• YES. •_`

` __ `

Cormac described the process, as it was known to the general wizarding community. Nobody knew the exact steps to split one’s soul besides murder; nobody wanted to know. Nor, as it seemed, did Jocasta, for upon hearing the basic description she began to shiver.

` __ `

“That’s some scary shit,” said Jill. “Scarier than what you told me. Where on earth did you – ”

` __ `

`_• TAKE A WILD FUCKING GUESS, JILL. •_`

` __ `

“Oh.” Jill drummed her fingers on the table. “I see.”

` __ `

`_• NEW RULE: JOCASTA CARROW NEVER GOES HOME AGAIN. •_`

` __ `

Violet looked confused. “Why would you not want to – ”

` __ `

“You weren’t supposed to hear that!”

` __ `

Jill’s drumming on the table got a little louder.

` __ `

“Perhaps not,” said Cormac. “And yet, I heard it as well. I think you meant it for all of us, even of you didn’t think of it. If there’s a Horcrux at your house we need to tell McGonagall, or somebody.”

` __ `

“Don’t! It’s fine! It has to be fine!” `_• PROBABLY NOT FINE. •_`“Shut up, brain!”

` __ `

“It’s never fine,” said Violet. “But. Do we believe that it’s an urgent matter?”

` __ `

“No!” `_• YES. •_`

` __ `

“How urgent?”

` __ `

“It’s not!” `_• BETTER TELL SOONER RATHER THAN LATER. •_` “God dammit, brain!”

` __ `

The drumming got a little louder.

` __ `

Miranda stood. “I will go and fetch Professor Longbottom. He needs to hear about this. You all can stay here, calm down a bit and discuss sweeter topics. Hopefully I won’t be too long. ‘Scuse.” She took a vial out of her pocket, popped the cork, and downed it in one go. Suddenly there was a cat streaking out of the library, and a vial thumping onto the carpet.

` __ `

“I get the feeling,” said Cormac, “that she doesn’t actually need to become an Animagus when she has that stuff. Jill, what did you mean about something less scary than – Jill?”

` __ `

Jill’s eyes were glowing red.

` __ `

She pushed her chair back and stood bolt upright.

` __ `

Sparrow stood up with her, and tapped her on the shoulder, not flinching when Jill regarded her with that firey gaze. She motioned to the book stack. `_◊◊ SIT HERE WITH ME. ◊◊_`

` __ `

Jill sat upon the floor. Sparrow sat in her lap. They held each other tight.

` __ `

The glow faded.

` __ `

Jocasta sat herself down beside them and lay her head against Jill’s shoulder. Her shivering ceased.

` __ `

Cormac and Violet sat down in front of the three, looking thoroughly confused and concerned.

` __ `

“Your house,” said Cormac. “The Carrow mansion. Carraw Hall. Well, I never wanted to go there before and I certainly will not go there now. Not that it’s – I mean – You said you wouldn’t go there again. I assume you’re sincere in such a statement, even to the extent of defying the orders of your parents?”

` __ `

Jocasta nodded.

` __ `

“Let it be so,” said Cormac. “And if it be so, that we must aid you in this defiance, and defend you from wrath, then let it be so. I will certainly pledge my wand to that cause.”

` __ `

“You have my wand as well," said Violet.

` __ `

Cormac glanced at Jill.

` __ `

`_††††† YOU DO NOT NEED TO DEFEND ME AGAINST ANY ENEMY OUT OF THE PAST. BUT YOU MAY NEED TO DEFEND YOURSELF AGAINST ME. †††††_`

` __ `

Sparrow hugged Jill tighter.

` __ `

"It sounds as though you need help of a different sort. The same sort that Jocasta needs. Perhaps you all do."

` __ `

“I don’t need help,” said Jocasta. `_• HELP. •_`“Oh for God’s sake!” She shook her head. “We’ve gotten quite off track, haven’t we.”

` __ `

“Have we,” said Cormac. “I wonder.” He stood, and went back to the table, where the record of the Wizarding War still lay. “Harry Potter as a Horcrux. Hm. There’s something here I’m missing.” He traced his finger over the tiny text. “How was the mind link established?”

` __ `

Violet said nothing, nor when she rose did she come to stand beside Cormac. Nor, when she came to stand at the end of the table, did she face her friends, but stood with her back to them, hands clasped behind her.

` __ `

Jocasta, Jill, and Sparrow exchanged glances. They rose as one, and came to stand at the table, Sparrow and Jill no longer clinging to each other quite as tight as before. Not that Sparrow dared let go completely.

` __ `

Jocasta, for her part, gave Sparrow a peck on the cheek, then went to look over the book with Cormac.

` __ `

“Ah,” said Cormac, tapping the page. “Dark magic. There’s the key.”

` __ `

“Excuse me?” said Jill.

` __ `

“I mean the key difference,” said Cormac. “Harry’s link to Voldemort’s head was established in the act of turning the poor boy into a Horcrux. And none of us are horcruxes.”

` __ `

Everyone glanced at Jocasta.

` __ `

“I’m certain I would remember if that had been done to me,” said Jocasta. `_• PROBABLY. • “Oh just – ” She pulled a chair backward roughly and sat down heavily. “Keep going.”_`

` _` __ ` _ `

“Right. Well. One mind link and another. One established through dark magic and the other established through…what, exactly? What is the common factor between these two sorts of psychic links? What is the basic mechanism of the mind link for the Horcrux?"

` _` __ ` _ `

"Well?" said Jocasta. "Spit it out."

` _` __ ` _ `

"I don't know the answer," said Cormac. "That's why I'm asking you."

` _` __ ` _ `

“The Soul,” said Violet, without turning around. “The basic mechanism of the Horcrux is to split one’s soul and place it in an object. That is what happened to harry Potter, even if by accident.”

` _` __ ` _ `

“Oh, yes,” said Cormac. “In the act of Voldemort killing himself. Quite the Own Goal. Now, the basic mechanism itself does not seem dark, does it?”

` _` __ ` _ `

“It certainly could be seen that way,” said Jill.

` _` __ ` _ `

“I’m talking real basic,” said Cormac. “The pure mechanics of the thing, the idea of putting a part of one’s soul in an object. Hell, people do it by accident in a metaphorical sense when they love an object too dearly. It’s the process that matters here. Were it possible to lodge a bit of one’s soul in an object, or perhaps a person, without resorting to dark methods…hm.” Cormac stroked his chin. “I suppose it would have to be truly voluntary to be less than dark, wouldn’t it. Sounds a bit romantic when I think about it. Anyway!” Cormac closed the book with a thump. “Do we know of any spell that could do such a thing?”

` _` __ ` _ `

“I know of none,” said Violet.

` _` __ ` _ `

“Do you want to turn around and actually talk to us?” said Jocasta.

` _` __ ` _ `

“I do not.”

` _` __ ` _ `

Jocasta threw up her hands in silent exasperation.

` _` __ ` _ `

“My apologies,” said Violet. She turned back to her friends. “I have simply been lost in thought for the past few minutes. As for this business…Mr. Potter's horcrux was an accident and so is whatever is happening here. But I can’t say it’s the same thing, can I? You need to cast a spell to do a Horcrux. And this whole thing just…happened. Somehow. No wand involved, no spell involved.”

` _` __ ` _ `

`_◊◊ PERHAPS NOT. ◊◊_`

` _` __ ` _ `

“You have an idea, then?”

` _` __ ` _ `

`_◊◊ A MEMORY. PROFESSOR BUDGE TOLD ME THAT THERE IS AN EMOTIONAL COMPONENT TO SPELLS. WE ARE TAUGHT, AS STUDENTS, THAT THEY DEPEND UPON DETERMINATION AND INTENT TO BEGIN WITH. ◊◊_`

` _` __ ` _ `

“But you still need to cast a spell to do magic,” said Violet. “Even without a wand.”

` _` __ ` _ `

`_◊◊ SAVE FOR THE RANDOM WILD SWINGS OF MAGIC THAT YOUNG CHILDREN MANIFEST. ◊◊_`

` _` __ ` _ `

“That…is a good point.”

` _` __ ` _ `

`_◊◊ AND THE BLESSING THAT LILY POTTER GAVE HER SON, IN THE MOMENT OF HER SACRIFICE. PERHAPS, IN A DESPERATE MOMENT, MAGIC MIGHT ARISE FROM EMOTION ALONE. ◊◊_`

` _` __ ` _ `

Violet at last stood closer. She took the book from Cormac and flipped to the beginning of the records of the Second Wizarding War. “There was something about Harry Potter’s early childhood…here. It says he magicked himself to the rooftop to escape some bullies at school, without intending to.”

` _` __ ` _ `

`_◊◊ THERE YOU GO. ◊◊_`

` _` __ ` _ `

“Well,” said Jocasta. “Harry’s incident was a matter of desperation. And so was mine, come to think of it. But when Sparrow managed to Send…well, the first thing I heard from her was ‘I love you’ . But she also Sent to you, Cormac?"

` _` __ ` _ `

"I would also call that a moment of desperation."

` _` __ ` _ `

"I’m still not sure what the common factor is here.”

` _` __ ` _ `

Sparrow thought to all the times she had Sent to someone. What had proceeded each instance? Not simply “I love you,” but also “I am sorry.” For the most part. There were times when neither had been the case, and she was only saying something she needed to say, but didn’t want to.

` _` __ ` _ `

Hmmmmmmm.

` _` __ ` _ `

`_◊◊ THE TIMES I HAVE SPOKEN IN THIS WAY…THINK. WHY DO SOME PEOPLE HAVE SO MUCH TROUBLE SAYING 'I LOVE YOU'? IT IS FOR THE SAME REASON THAT THEY FEAR TO SAY 'I AM SORRY.' I KNOW THE REASON. CAN YOU GUESS IT? ◊◊_`

` _` __ ` _ `

“To apologize sincerely is to surrender,” said Jill. “It’s a moment in which you put your heart in the hands of another. Or a bit of your soul, you might say. Is that it? A whisper of the heart? Is that the link?”

` _` __ ` _ `

“Doesn’t explain the first time,” said Jocasta. “Doesn’t explain how I reached you.”

` _` __ ` _ `

“Oh,” said Jill, with a wry grin. “I don’t know. I think you did surrender to me before that evening. Or did you not intend to honor the terms of our duel after all?”

` _` __ ` _ `

Jocasta blinked.

` _` __ ` _ `

Then she grinned from ear to ear.

` _` __ ` _ `

“Uh oh,” said Cormac.

` _` __ ` _ `

Jocasta pushed back her chair, stood bolt upright, rolled herself right over the table, stood in front of Sparrow, grabbed her shoulders, put her face close and – paused.

` _` __ ` _ `

Sparrow shook her head. `_◊◊ MANDRAKE LEAF, REMEMBER? ◊◊_`

` _` __ ` _ `

`_• OH, BUT THERE IS THE REST OF YOUR FACE, MY DEAR. •_`

` _` __ ` _ `

Sparrow nodded.

` _` __ ` _ `

And was well rewarded for it.

` _` __ ` _ `

Between them, Jill, Cormac, and Violet laughed enough to make each of them grateful that this was a Sunday morning, such that no other student was mad enough to be in the library and find themselves disturbed by the racket.

` _` __ ` _ `

“Someday,” said Jill, “when I am ready, and less fearful of myself, I will give my little Sparrow as many kisses as I am holding back from her now, for suggesting the terms of that duel.”

` _` __ ` _ `

“Hopefully not all at once,” said Cormac. “Can someone drown in kisses?”

` _` __ ` _ `

`_◊◊ THEY CAN RUN OUT OF AIR. BREATHE, GIRL. ◊◊_`

` _` __ ` _ `

Jocasta finally let go of Sparrow’s neck and caught her breath. “They certainly can. Whoo! Alright, so besides Miranda and Jill I can say that Sparrow saved me from certain doom, even if it was entirely by accident. You all did in your own way on that night.” `_• I LOVE ALL MY FRIENDS. •_`

` _` __ ` _ `

“Ah,” said Cormac. “And you know, when I think about Jocasta’s experience here, I think that the link will permit no lie. I think one can only Send things that they truly – ” He paused, and looked at Violet beside him. She had the flower in her hand again, but if Cormac registered it, he was not glancing at it, for he and Violet held each other's gaze without blinking.

` _` __ ` _ `

They remained in that position for a good ten seconds while Jill, Jocasta, and Sparrow all exchanged glances. It would have been very easy for them to discuss the situation silently between themselves, but none of them wanted to risk interrupting whatever was happening.

` _` __ ` _ `

Whatever was happening involved the two getting real close. They held each other in a gentle embrace. Violet caressed Cormac’s cheek, and tucked the lavender flower behind his ear. Then they pressed their foreheads together, and remained that way, eyes closed.

` _` __ ` _ `

“You know,” murmured Jocasta, “I daresay I’ve been upstaged.”

` _` __ ` _ `

At last the two parted, though not very far from each other. “Alright then,” said Violet. “I think we ought to be finding Professor Longbottom if he’s taking his time getting to us. Come on.”

` _` __ ` _ `

“Ahem,” said McGonagall.

` _` __ ` _ `

Everyone jumped.

` _` __ ` _ `

There was the Headmistress stepping out of the stacks, flanked by Miranda. “My apologies,” said McGonagall. “I arrived here a few minutes ago but had no wish to intrude upon your more personal business. As for why I am so late in reaching you, it is because I most certainly did not expect to be woken up for anything on a Sunday morning.”

` _` __ ` _ `

“But you certainly started moving faster when Longbottom told you it was about a Horcrux,” said Miranda, as she stepped out from behind the stacks wtih Professor Longbottom in tow.

` _` __ ` _ `

“Hrmph. Well. If it had been anyone besides you two I would have thought they had been goaded by their friends into trying to hoodwink me. But I had to entertain the possibility that you had got yourself into yet another fine mess. Now, what exactly is this Horcrux you’re referring to?”

` _` __ ` _ `

“It’s nothing!” said Jocasta.

` _` __ ` _ `

`_• THERE’S A HORCRUX AT MY HOUSE AND I’M SCARED TO GO HOME BECAUSE I WAS JUST INFORMED ABOUT HOW THEY WERE MADE AND I WOULD NOT PUT IT PAST MY FATHER TO HAVE MADE IT GODDAMMIT I SHOULDN’T HAVE SAID THAT I SHOULDN’T HAVE SAID THAT AAAAAAAAAAA – • _`

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

`_◊◊ JOCASTA. ◊◊_`

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

`_• WHAT! •_`

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

`_◊◊ YOU ARE HERE. NOT THERE. AND WE ARE HERE WITH YOU, ALWAYS. ◊◊_`

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

`_• I KNOW. THAT'S WHY I'M NOT JUMPING OUT THE WINDOW RIGHT NOW. •_`

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

“I see,” said McGonagall. She chewed her upper lip for a moment. “And you’re not joking. No, you don’t sound like it."

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

"Jocasta," said Professor Longbottom, "you are certain of this? Couldn't be mistaking one thing for another?"

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

Jocasta took a deep breath. “I…am certain that I am not mistaken. Excuse me one moment. Sparrow, your other arm, if you please?” She put an arm around Sparrow’s waist as Sparrow put an arm around hers. “Thank you. Now where was I, oh yes. Horcrux. Ahem. Yes. When I was a wee little Wizard, I found the old ring in a cupboard – ”

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

“I can’t tell if you’re having us on,” said McGonagall.

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

“I’m stalling,” said Jocasta. “I was four years old and I went searching through some of the furniture in a dusty forgotten hallway. Found a ring in a drawer and I thought it looked nice, but I couldn’t understand why it was whispering to me. And it made me feel all funny. Kind of queasy, really. So I asked my Father about it. He whisked it away and I never saw the thing again…but years after that Bertrand told me it must have been a Horcrux. But he wouldn’t tell me what a Horcrux was, no matter how much I asked him, and when I asked anyone else they pretended not to hear me. So there we go, that’s a childhood mystery turned into a fucking nightmare! Are you happy?”

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

“Absolutely not,” said McGonagall. “But I am satisfied by your description. I will send a letter to – no. This requires floo powder. I will be busier than ever, children, but I imagine you will be as well. Professor Budge is my deputy until I get back, and do pay attention to Professor Clearwater. Good luck.” She turned to go.

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

`_∞ G OOD LUCK∞_`. 

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

McGonagall paused, and turned back to the children, giving them a look of satisfied amusement. Then she disappeared into the stacks.

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

"Sounds like you're all figuring this out," said Professor Longbottom.

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

"We've got the general idea," said Cormac.

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

"Excellent. Keep up that level of study, and you should have no trouble passing your exams. Jocasta, meet me in my office after dinner. We have much to discuss."

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

He did not wait for a reply, but left the same way McGonagall had gone, leaving five children to wonder about the past and the future of one.

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

…

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `

That night, three girls slept in the large bed of the Dorm Room of Requirement. One between them made no effort to escape the other two. Indeed, she held them as close as they held her.

` _` _` __ ` _ ` _ `


	33. A soft place to land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jocasta lets Sparrow see a little bit of what's beyond the door.

` ~~Dear Mum and Dad and Robin and Finch,~~ `

` ~~I am sorry that I have not sent a letter home lately. So much has happened, I can hardly all fit it in one letter! And most of the story I shouldn't be sending by owl post anyway. Wouldn't want it intercepted, would I?~~ `

Okay, so that one was giving too much away.

` ~~Dear Mum and Dad and Robin and Finch,~~ `

` ~~I am sorry that I have not sent a letter home lately. So much has happened, I have been so busy, and some things I could not figure out how to tell you plainly but politely, as it is of a sensitive nature.~~ `

Still giving too much away.

...

`Dear Mum and Dad and Robin and Finch,`

`Goodness, how long has it been since I sent a letter home? Too long. So much has happened. Some of it I don't understand myself! So I can hardly explain it in a letter. Maybe I'll figure it out in time to summarize it in the next one. Anyway, I am keeping your advice in mind and I am following good advice from everyone I know. And I have very good friends. I have two wonderful girlfriends. We will keep each other safe.`

`I am sorry to report that I have been suspended from my classes here at Hogwarts. Along with all my friends. That was quite the kerfuffle, let me tell you! I shall tell you everything when I see you again. But that will not be soon. The Headmistress is not sending us home. She is keeping us here because she thinks we can teach each other all the O.W.L. spells. I won't say she's wrong, but it is a bit awkward to have no classes.`

`Let me give you a sense of how that has been going. Violet has been getting hang of a spell called "Ascendio", which lifts the caster high into the air. She has been teaching it to us out of doors because she realized that doing indoors would tend to leave her with a bruised head. She wanted to teach us by the edge of the lake because a water landing is softer than the hard earth, but then she decided that it would be dangerous because it would leave us outdoors and wet and cold. So, we finally remembered that we could do cushioning charms, and over the past few days most of us have had fun tossing ourselves into the air.`

`Most of us. Cormac always wants to support Violet's efforts these days -- he took up wtth Violet a few days ago, I think, but I think they've been together for a while and didn't know it. Jocasta likes the idea of escaping an enemy by flying high. Miranda likes doing some wandwork that actually works for her for once. But I don't like the idea, and Jill doesn't either. It feels cowardly.`

`But we're both trying it anyway because Violet got really annoyed at us and said that learning how to run is critical to preserving one's strength for moments of one's choosing and for giving one the mental space to decide if a fight is worth it and anyway it's not necessarily about combat so the fact that Jill and I are assuming it's all about combat feels a little disturbing and it would be helpful for both of us if we had some actual non-combat spells at our disposal so we could relax for once for pity's sake.`

`She looked real serious. I guess that's her way of making a heartfelt plea. So I've been trying, and I'm improving steadily. Slowly. I didn't want to go very high at first. My head knows what I have to do, my heart knows, my shoulder says no. Because I broke my collarbone a few days ago when the bridge collapsed and I'll explain that later. So Violet had to show me she could do a good Levicorpus spell -- that's the one where you float a person instead of an object -- before I wanted to go any higher. Jill didn't have any trouble but that's because she's used to being way up high on a broom and sometimes falling really far because Quidditch has absolutely dreadful safety standards for the players. I ought to learn Levicorpus myself one of these days.`

`And Jocasta has been tossing herself higher and higher because she wanted to give herself space to force herself to transfigure because she's been having trouble with that lately because she almost died and boy that's a long story too. I was annoyed that she kept being reckless but I could understand where her frustration was coming from so I didn't object as much as I should have. Violet objected when Jocasta assumed that Violet would catch her. Miranda had to do it and most of what she could do so far was slow someone down so ~~Violet and Jocasta kind of crashed into each other~~ Jocasta kind of crashed into Violet.`

`That was a bit of a row but Jocasta said she would communicate better about when she was launching herself so after a while she was flying even higher than before and higher and higher. I thought she would be having fun but she kept looking frustrated. The transfiguration thing just wasn't working. She was human on the way up and human all the way down. So she had the bright idea of telling us not to catch her, because she thought being in genuine peril would force herself to transfigure this time, but it still didn't work and everyone tried to cast Levicorpus and missed except for Miranda so Jocasta slowed down just enough to not go completely splat when she hit the shield.`

`Because of course there would be a shield right? It's kind of automatic by now. Except I'm not sure if I cast it because I didn't actually have my hand on my wand yet because I'd dropped it when my hands were shaking. Maybe I didn't. Anyway Miranda finally managed to get Levicorpus to work when she lifted Jocasta off the shield. So I guess that trick worked for something.`

`Jocasta looked pretty bad when she got down to the ground. Teeth clenched and everything. I couldn't figure out how she wasn't screaming in pain. I also didn't know why she wasn't glaring at me. Maybe she was busy trying to not scream. Cormac took out his wonderful glass lens thing with the gold band and looked through it and said Jocasta had a fair number of fractures in her ribs and in her wand arm, which was a problem because the only other person who knew any bone-healing spells was Miranda and she definitely didn't want to be screwing up the spell right now. But Jocasta held her hand and said she could do it. So she did and it kind of worked. Jocasta said the intense pain faded to a less intense pain. But she still couldn't move her arm.`

`So we had to end that lesson for the day and bring Jocasta to the hospital wing. And explain our mistakes to Madames Pomfrey and Abbot. I thought were were going to get yelled at. But they said they were used to seeing worse. Madame Abbot also said Jocasta ought to think about learning healing spells on a more formal basis now with Madame Promfrey and Cormac said he wanted to study healing spells too. I wonder if I should have expectd that of him or not. But he has a long way to go if he wants to catch up to Jocasta. Yet another thing to add to every day's to-do list! I wonder if he can handle it.`

`So Jocasta's still currently in the hospital wing and I'm not exactly cut off from her but I miss her anyway.`

`And I miss the Headmistress because she's currently gone on some errand and I have no idea where. She didn't want to tell me what she was doing. I wish she sould send a report to us or something. Any sort of news at all. But there is nothing. No news is good news? I don't know.`

`And I kind of get the same sense from Jocasta as well because earlier this week she went to a meeting with Professor Longbottom and she took Jill along and she didn't take me. I mean I can guess why, sensitive subject and all, but she didn't give me the chance to politely refuse or anything. Or politely let me know I was being shut out. Humph. She wanted me to be a soft place to land. Maybe I'm still not soft enough for that yet. I wish I could be.`

`So now we're teaching each other more mundane stuff like colour-changing charms and the difference between a knarl and a hedgehog. Both of which are really easy. BOR. RING.`

`Although the remainder of the books about magical creatures are more interesting. Apparently bowtruckles look like stick insects. And Hippogriffs are supposed to live all over the continent. But I don't know if this book is up to date because it was wrotten written in 1995. A lot has changed since then! This book is more like a look into the past. ~~It says that Lethifolds only live in the tropical lattitudes~~ HA HA HA NICE WEATHER WE HAVE TODAY EH?`

`I wanted to ask Miranda if she'd made any progress on her Lycanthropy cure but I'm always busy during the day and I never see her after the sun goes down. Not even in the dungeons where I'd think she would be cooking up something. Nope. Maybe she just retreats to Gryffindor tower. I don't want to ask the Fat Lady to fetch her. So I try to Send for her and she doesn't answer.`

`Damn and blast, nobody tells me anything! Even my friends! I guess we've all got personal stuff we don't want to speak about.`

`Anyway, I hope you are doing well, and that you have not been given any trouble because of my hasty actions in the past few months. I am sorry for running my mouth off. Maybe you ought to come here to Hogwarts where it's safer? There's better food here anyway.`

`Love,`

`Sparrow`

...

Sparrow did not send the letter.

Not at first. She had to clear it with a few different people who were more naturally cynical than her. One of whom was still in the hospital wing.

Jocasta's verdict was that the letter was okay, but that Sparrow ought to remove the bits about transfiguration, as a matter of personal privacy. Jocasta knew she was on the official Animagus registry now, but she wanted to make sure nobody had a reason to look in that direction, not yet. To this Sparrow could agree easily enough, for it was not critical to report.

The details of her suspension, on the other hand, were something her parents had the right to know about, and it was harder to convince Jocasta that such information was worth including. Jocasta noted that Sparrow was typically too honest for this kind of secrecy to begin with; case in point, the fact that Sparrow had let Jocasta judge a letter which contained a personal complaint about relationship issues between the two, apparently without a trace of hesitation.

Sparrow pointed out that such an action could just as easily be a sneaky way of raising the subject without having to say anything face-to-face. Jocasta said that it was possible, but the fact that Sparrow would admit that manner of subterfuge made her look like she had a minimal capacity for subterfuge. Which was why she was consulting Jocasta and Percival in the first place, yes?

Sparrow replied that she might just be doing a very complex obfuscation of her own cleverness. At this, Jocasta laughed aloud, enough to make her ribs hurt again, and Madame Abbot decided that it was time for Sparrow to leave, true love or no.

But Jocasta was able to request one more moment. In that moment, she put her hand over Sparrow's, and said that she ought not to worry about being a soft place to land.

Sparrow was left confused as she was whisked out of the Hospital Wing, and did not think to ask Jocasta what she meant. Was she fulfilling her task properly, then? But she had not done so when it came to catching Jocasta. Should she just not try after all? But why would Jocasta say such a thing? And she ought to keep trying anyway.

She also ought to find Percival.

But he was about as easy to find these days as Wilhelmina Burke. He seemed to be nowhere in the halls these days. Even when she Sent to him, he did not answer or appear -- although Ignotius Nott did appear, and warn Sparrow that she might not want to be broadcasting to everyone and sundry.

Sparrow decided that the best place to hide from her embarassment was the Owl Post Room, because the owls could not laugh at her.

But the owls were also missing that evening. All of them. The caretaker was extremely vexed. He'd never seen them all take off at once before.

So Sparrow had to be content with the second-best place to hid from embarassment, which was by Jill's side, and she had to be content with letting Percival show up when he would. If ever.

...

And so the week went on, and Sparrow's tension did not disappear. For the children speculated as best they could about what McGonagall might be doing, and what she might be finding, but in spite of Sparrow's desperation for any sort of clear report, none came. McGonagall had not promised any such thing, after all. And she might not want to send an owl if it could be intercepted. So all the children could do was wait and hope for McGonagall to return.

Of course when McGonagall returned she would tell Sparrow everything, right? Perhaps not. Perhaps such matters were well above any student's level of security clearance. Except Jocasta's, if McGonagall was investigating anything in regards to the Carrow manor. Goodness knew the matter of forcing transfiguration on a ten-year-old girl demanded some manner of investigation. So of course such information would be relayed to Jocasta, and Sparrow in turn, yes? Except that was a stupid assumption, because Jocasta had clearly demonstrated her reluctance to discuss such matters, and it would be silly to assume that anyone would freely volunteer such personal details anyway.

On a Thursday morning of rare sunshine, before breakfast, Sparrow stepped into the Hufflepuff Common Room to discover that Jocasta had been released from the hospital wing. She was sitting there, reading the library copy of _Granger and Snape's Advanced Potioncraft, Volume One_. Specifically, she was sitting cross-legged on Jill’s back, rising and falling as Jill did press-ups, not losing her poise or her page.

Sparrow glanced over at the prefect, who was also watching the proceedings, with rapt attention upon Jill. Fair enough.

Sparrow knelt before the pair and made her apology for the assumption.

The response, from Jocasta at least, was surprised laughter.

“My dear,” said Jocasta, “once again you act in a manner quite outside what I am used to.”

“This really shouldn’t be that much of a surprise,” said Jill. “You’re dating Miss Hufflepuff Squared here.”

`_◊◊ AND YOU KNOW ME WELL ENOUGH BY NOW. ◊◊_`

“Oh, surely. From _you_ I can’t call it a surprise. But from most? Most are…less willing to admit things they think might be shameful.”

`_◊◊ LIKE YOU? ◊◊_`

“Perhaps. Horrifying might be a better descriptor. Yet there is shame. I wonder why. Ah, but I say too much. I ought to continue studying. Although I did want to say – sorry for not telling you I was out of the Hospital Wing.”

`_◊◊ OH? ◊◊_`

“We figured a surprise like this would be funnier,” said Jill.

`_◊◊ HOW DID YOU – NEVER MIND. TALKING OF SHAME, I HAD A QUESTION FOR JOCASTA THAT’S BEEN ON MY MIND FOR SOME TIME. ◊◊_`

Jocasta raised an eyebrow.

`_◊◊ NOT THAT I WOULD CALL IT A MATTER OF SHAME DIRECTLY, BUT IN REGARDS TO YOU AND MIRANDA – ◊◊_`

Jocasta glanced left and right, then thwapped her book shut, jumped off Jill’s back, took Sparrow by the hand and led her up the stairs and into the Dorm Room of Requirement before she could even say goodbye to Jill.

Jocasta shut the door sharply, spun around to face Sparrow, and put on an innocent smile. “Yes?”

`_◊◊ THEN AGAIN, MAYBE THE MATTER IS TOO SENSITIVE. ◊◊_`

“How could you possibly guess?”

`_◊◊ WELL, IF YOU DON’T TRUST ME WITH EVEN THAT TOPIC – ◊◊_`

“Oh no you don’t.” Jocasta led Sparrow to the bed and sat down next to her. “No playing on my heartstrings like that, girl. What do you want to know?”

`_◊◊ I WANT TO KNOW HOW YOU FEEL. BECAUSE I THINK YOU’VE CAUGHT FEELINGS FOR MIRANDA. AM I CORRECT? ◊◊_`

“An entire boatload.”

`_◊◊ BUT YOU HAVEN’T SAID ANYTHING ABOUT DATING HER. ◊◊_`

Jocasta crossed her arms. “Oh, is _that_ what this is about.”

`_◊◊ I’M JUST SAYING, I KNOW YOU WELL ENOUGH TO THINK IT WOULD BE LIKELY, AND WONDERING WHY YOU HAVEN’T MADE A MOVE YET. MIGHT AS WELL AVOID PINING, RIGHT? ◊◊_`

Jocasta bit her lip and looked away.

`_◊◊ WHAT? ◊◊_`

“Let’s say I will be pining for a while.”

`_◊◊ SHE’S NOT INTO GIRLS? ◊◊_`

Jocasta put her face in her palm.

`_◊◊ WHAT? ◊◊_`

“You need to ask Miranda about this. It’s not my business to reveal.”

`_◊◊ OH, WELL – ◊◊_`

“And I daresay that if that’s how you’re thinking all the time, I have rubbed off on you quite a bit –” she raised her head, as if realizing what she had done, and glared at Sparrow. “Don’t you dare.”

`_◊◊ WASN’T GONNA. ◊◊_ `Sparrow put on an innocent smile.

“Right.” Jocasta crossed her arms again. “Well, the situation is more complicated than I find it easy to describe at the moment because it involves something I can’t exactly wrap my head around and god dammit I’ve said too much haven’t I?”

`_◊◊ DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT. ◊◊_`

“Really.”

Sparrow’s innocent smile had not faded.

But then it did. `_◊◊ LOOK – I DON’T NEED TO KNOW ALL THE DETAILS. AS MUCH AS I’M DISAPPOINTED THAT YOU DON’T FEEL ABLE TO TELL ME EVERYTHING, I CAN’T PRY ANYTHING OUT OF YOU. I’M JUST WORRIED THAT THIS SITUATION, WHATEVER IS, WILL BE ANOTHER WEIGHT ON YOUR MIND IF YOU DON’T, YOU KNOW, DEAL WITH IT. ◊◊_`

“Deal how?”

`_◊◊ TELL ME. DO YOU LOVE MIRANDA? ◊◊_`

“Yes? No? I don’t know.”

`_◊◊ HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW? ◊◊_`

Jocasta threw her hands in the air. “Because I don’t even know what’s going on with the situation! I don’t know what do make of it! With you it’s easy! We swap massive secrets, we dance, we kiss, we confess our love in the midst of peril, we go home happy – ” Jocasta looked around at the room. “We made this room a home by accident all of a sudden, didn’t we.”

`_◊◊ FOCUS. WHAT EXACTLY IS CONFUSING ABOUT THE SITUATION? WHAT MAKES HER DIFFERENT THAN ME HERE? ◊◊_`

“Never mind.”

`_◊◊ WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NEVER MIND? ◊◊_`

“I mean I don’t know how to talk about it at all. Imagine being smitten by her mighty shoulders for three years and being thrown for that kind of loop. Sheesh! So go ask her and she can explain it better. I can accept it but I can’t wrap my head around it. Alright?”

`_◊◊ IF…THAT IS WHAT YOU WISH. IS IT SOMETHING HORRIBLE? ◊◊_`

“Not in the least.”

`_◊◊ BUT IT IS A DEALBREAKER. ◊◊_`

Jocasta nodded.

`_◊◊ IS IT AN ANIMAL? ◊◊_`

“What a thing to suggest!”

`_◊◊ IS IT A VEGETABLE? ◊◊_`

“For Miranda that would be more likely. No, it’s not a mineral either. And I’m not going to answer your 18 remaining questions.” Jocasta fairly leapt off the bed and made for the door.

`_◊◊ JOCASTA, HANG ON._` _Sparrow ran up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder._

__

Jocasta whirled around. “What!”

__

`_◊◊ SOMETIMES LOVE IS JUST A MATTER OF INTEREST AND ATTRACTION. EVEN IF IT MAKES NO SENSE. ◊◊_`

__

“Well that certainly applies here, doesn’t it.”

__

`_◊◊ BUT IF YOU WANT IT TO BECOME ANYTHING MORE, YOU HAVE TO EXPRESS IT. I’M GOING TO TAKE A WILD GUESS AND SAY THAT’S WHAT’S GOING ON HERE. YOU DON’T HAVE TO TELL ME EXACTLY WHAT’S UP – I CAN GUESS WELL ENOUGH. BUT THE DETAILS AREN’T THE POINT. ◊◊_`

__

“So what, exactly, is the point?”

__

`_◊◊ THE POINT IS, I’M GOING TO TAKE A WILD GUESS AND SAY SHE LOVES YOU TOO. ◊◊_`

__

Jocasta frowned. “Explain.”

__

`_◊◊ YOU FUCK UP WITH HER GREENHOUSE TWICE AND SHE DRAGS YOU INTO MAKING UP FOR IT, JUMPS INTO OUR INSANE SCHEME WITH LITTLE PROMPTING, AND LETS YOU KEEP COMING INTO THE GREENHOUSE? AND THEN SHE OFFERS TO DO WHATEVER SHE CAN FOR YOUR MENTAL PAIN, AND THE FIRST TIME HER LEVICORPUS SPELL REALLY WORKS IS WHEN SHE'S FISHING YOU OUT OF THE LAKE? I THINK SHE WANTS TO KEEP YOU AROUND. I THINK THAT’S HOW SHE’S EXPRESSING HER LOVE TO YOU. ALTHOUGH MAYBE SHE DOESN’T KNOW IT. ◊◊_`

__

“Oh. Um. I guess I hadn’t thought of the matter that way.”

__

`_◊◊ AND I THINK I KNOW HOW YOU CAN EXPRESS YOUR OWN LOVE TO HER, IN A WAY SHE UNDERSTANDS. BECAUSE YOU ALREADY DID. ◊◊_`

__

“How?”

__

`_◊◊ ENCOURAGE HER EXPERIMENTS – ◊◊_`

__

“You mean, the encouragement I gave her for the polyjuice potion?”

__

`_◊◊ I KNOW IT WAS A TRICK. WAS IT ALSO A LIE? ◊◊_`

__

Jocasta cast her eyes downward. “No. It wasn’t. ”

__

`_◊◊ AND IN RESPONSE TO POSSIBLY SCREWING UP HER ARM-FIXING POTION, YOU GO SO FAR AS TO CHECK OUT THE GRANGER AND SNAPE POTIONCRAFT BOOK? COME ON. YOU CLEARLY WANT TO MAKE THINGS UP TO HER. WAS IT THAT HARD TO GO TO PROFESSOR LONGBOTTOM AND CONFESS? ◊◊_`

__

“Not…quite as much. With Miranda there.”

__

`_◊◊ BINGO. KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK, THEN. ◊◊_`

__

“That’s not…oh, for heaven’s sake! I’ve said as much as I will about the topic for the moment. Thank you very much for encouraging me and we will not elaborate on this topic until I know you have got her side of the story.” Jocasta opened the door, stepped into the Slytherin common room, and closed it behind her. When Sparrow opened it it showed only the Hufflepuff common room.

__

Damn and blast that door.

__

…

__

There was much waiting for return, over the course of the week. At its beginning Sparrow waited for Jocasta's and Percival's return; through the days she waited for McGonagall's return; through the nights she waited for Jill to finally come to bed, for Jill would stand at the window in the false moonlight, as if keeping watch, though the glass would permit no clear viewing. Night by night she would keep this vigil, and each night, the red glow about her was a bit brighter, and would not subside, until Jocasta took her by the hand and led her to bed.

__

Thereupon the three girls would fall asleep clinging tightly to each other, as if to make up for any waking moments when they had been apart.

__

__

…

__

__

Sparrow had put as much within her letter as she felt was honest. There were events she was honor-bound to explain to her parents, and she also felt honor-bound to let them know about her general state of mind. But there were emotions roiling within her that she could not address easily, let alone summarize.

__

Firstly, there was the fact that the full moon would occur on the same Sunday as the Valentine’s Day Ball. Sparrow would have to wait for those proceedings to be over, perhaps even endure them personally, before participating in something she actually enjoyed. And, likely as not, the night would be overcast, and Sparrow would have to ask Blaise, once again, to help clear the skies. Sparrow felt a little anxious about getting Blaise involved in this again, as her whole conspiracy was already known by someone who had a half a mind to report it, but Blaise said that, as long as they had a hundred dragons as friends, the Ministry would not be much of a threat. So Sparrow’s anxiety was mostly a matter of sheer anticipation.

__

Secondly, there was the issue of how to contact Wilhelmina Burke. The Slytherin common room would not let Sparrow in, nor would the door have any ability to retain a message. Nor did Sparrow have a clue where the door was. It fell to Miss Carrow to attempt to contact Miss Burke, and even as such messages were passed to her, they were not answered. Sparrow could only assume that Miss Burke was still annoyed with Sparrow, though the matter of slander had been resolved. She could only hope that Miss Burke would cool off sooner rather than later.

__

Thirdly, and related, there was Sparrow’s worry for the well-being of Jocasta, when the girl was on her own in the Slytherin common room. The girl had said, specifically, that there were things in that common room that might destroy a girl like Sparrow; if they knew Jocasta was working with her they might not cut the Slytherin girl any slack. All Sparrow could do was ask Maledictus Burke to keep a sharp eye on her. Oh, and let her know where on earth Percival had got to.

__

Maledictus accepted the first task readily. As for the second task, all he could say was that he only saw Percival now and then. So he would get a message to his brother as soon as he could. Fair enough.

__

In the meantime, Sparrow spent a portion of her days recollecting all the incidents involving Jocasta. The dung bombs, the Frisbees, the ever-receding galleon. It all seemed so much less amusing now. A bid for power, perhaps, or a desperate search for attention? The girl had been carrying a heavy weight for a long time, and still would not let Sparrow shoulder it. Sparrow wondered if she ought to feel insulted, or if, in fact, she was not the most appropriate person to hear Jocasta’s troubles, regardless of how much affection they held for each other. Jill seemed to be handling that business all on her own.

__

And yet, there was the other thing. Jill was looking more than a little downtrodden, over the course of the week. In fact she had been looking like that ever since the incident in the dungeons. What had happened down there, the girl would not describe any more than she had, but only said, `_††††† DON’T ASK. †††††_`

__

Sparrow was beginning to feel as though her very best friends would not trust her with delicate topics. At the same time that the rest of her fellow students had done so without hesitation. Why, only this week poor Petrus Pomeroy had sought her out to ask what he ought to do if a friend had an extremely embarrassing illness they refused to reveal to Madame Pomfrey. Hepzebah Goldstein had asked to talk to her in private about her mother’s constant physical abuse. Clearly Sparrow was considered worthy of trust by most.

__

Including by Jocasta. Hadn't that girl entrusted a very large secret to her, all the way back in November? And hadn't Jill put her heart in Sparrow's hands before that? So perhaps the silence of both girls was not a judgment of Sparrow's character.

__

Especially since the full explanation might prove injurious.

__

It hurt to be loved and yet left out of things. It hurt far worse to be loved and yet be powerless to help one's beloved. Sparrow would do everything she could to be a soft place to land, and yet -- what if that was not enough? It almost sounded as though that was not the problem. The problem was that she was hearing cries of pain from the other side of a locked door and she was being told that opening the door might kill her. She was hearing cries of terror from somewhere down echoing hallways, and being told that she must not seek their source.

__

What then could she do for them?

__

...

__

The report that the children gave Professor Longbottom, on Thursday evening, was brief in comparison to last week’s discussion. The professor was pleased to see that everyone was now attempting to tutor each other, and his only advice, at this point, was to prepare for the written portion of the exam as well as the practical – which would involve certain tedious subjects such as Arithmency, History of Magic, and Ancient Runes. Not that two of these subjects were especially troublesome, and as for the third, well, the Ministry did not expect anyone to know the Ancient Runes beyond a rudimentary level anyway.

__

Violet had taken great offense to that concept, as well as to the idea that any of the three subjects was tedious. So Professor Longbottom said he was certain Violet would be an excellent tutor in those areas.

__

And elsewise, there was only the issue of Care of Magical Creatures. But that could wait for the warmer months, when the Knarls would be out from hibernation again.

__

The children departed, all save one, who paused in the doorway and turned.

__

Professor Longbottom looked up from his paperwork. “You have more troubles on your mind?”

__

`_◊◊ ON MY MIND. BUT NOT IN THEM. COMPARED TO SOME PEOPLE. ◊◊_`

__

“Go on.”

__

Sparrow threw herself into a chair.

__

`_◊◊ I SAID I WAS TRYING TO BE PATIENT. BUT I DON’T KNOW HOW TO DO THAT WHEN I AM SCARED FOR TWO PEOPLE I LOVE DEARLY. ◊◊_`

__

“Ah, well.” The Professor put his quill down and folded his hands. “So much like the moment of Jocasta’s peril, eh? No time to think or to hesitate, when you worry that your dear one’s life is on the line. And yet – in this case, the pain in question is not acute, but chronic. Something a person can live with in misery – or perhaps not, if it inspires self-destructive behavior. Is this your concern?”

__

Sparrow hesitated, not wishing to discuss the details of Jocasta’s personal troubles without her being there. She settled for a small nod.

__

“And I assume you are feeling guilty for not being able to do all you could to resolve the matter.”

__

Sparrow nodded harder.

__

"And you realize that my calling Jocasta in for a metting was a matter of me taking some responsibility for aiding her mental health, to the extent of my meager capabilities, per my advice to delegate things you could not handle yourself."

__

Sparrow nodded again.

__

"Yet you remain worried?"

__

`_◊◊ I AM MORE WORRIED FOR YOU, IF SUCH COUNSEL INVOLVES YOU BEING INJURED. PERHAPS I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE JUST IN CASE. ◊◊_`

__

The professor laughed. "Oh, Sparrow. Believe me. I have been in greater peril. And furniture can be replaced."

__

`_◊◊ TRUE. I GUESS I'M JUST A LITTLE JEALOUS THAT JOCASTA INVITED JILL AND NOT ME. ◊◊_`

__

"I did tell Jill to stand outside. Not that Jocasta would have it, but one thing I have picked up on from studying muggle therapy is that counsel is meant to be held in confidence. Which means that I cannot relay any details of our conversation to you, unless Jocasta decides to tell you herself."

__

`_◊◊ AND SHE DOESN'T TELL ME MUCH OF ANYTHING. ◊◊_`

__

"Indeed not. given the nature of what she described, I would expect she would not. But that is saying too much already."

__

`_◊◊ I JUST WISH EITHER OF THEM WOULD TELL ME SO I COULD HELP. ◊◊_`

__

"You are used to feeling helpful. Or taking that role upon yourself, as the case might be. I imagine you feel quite distressed to be cut off from that function."

__

`_◊◊ ESPECIALLY WHEN IT INVOLVES THE PEOPLE I LOVE MOST. ◊◊_`

__

"Then I imagine that, if I continue to counsel patience, you would find such advice difficult to follow."

__

`_◊◊ IT IS DIFFICULT TO ENDURE. ◊◊_`

__

"And yet you will, if I am not mistaken. For you are Sparrow Jones, and you value endurance as much as you value people being able to make critical decisions for themselves. Jocasta's reticence involves both principles. So you will endure whatever personal pain is involved in letting your loved ones remain reticent."

__

`_◊◊ I'LL KEEP MY MOUTH SHUT FOREVER IF IT MEANS THEY DON'T WORRY. ◊◊_`

__

"Don't."

__

`_◊◊ HOW'S THAT? ◊◊_`

__

"First of all, that will only serve to increase your own pain -- "

__

`_◊◊ OH. RIGHT. MARTYRING MYSELF AGAIN. ◊◊_`

__

"Once again, you take on more pain than you can bear."

__

`_◊◊ AND JILL TOLD ME TO STOP DOING THAT. BUT IT'S TEMPTING. IT IS WHAT I AM USED TO. BETTER ME THAN SOMEONE ELSE RIGHT? ◊◊_`

__

"I would not describe your actions in this case as taking a blow for someone else. I would describe it as adding pain instead of healing pain through communication."

__

Sparrow folded her arms. `WELL SOMEONE IS NOT COMMUNICATING WITH ME. ◊◊ `

__

"And you are returning the favor. So now you are replicating the behavior of your girlfriends, whether it be Jill desperately holding herself together or Jocasta habitually refusing to show pain on her face. If I were to tell you that your relationship is currently unhealthy -- "

__

`_◊◊ I WOULD SAY THAT US DECIDING TO BREAK UP WOULD NOT STOP ME FROM WANTING TO HELP THEM. IT WOULD SIMPLY RAISE EXTRA BARRIERS TOWARDS THAT END. ◊◊_`

__

"I'm not saying you ought to! I'm just saying that you're allowed to complain. Speaking as your immediate supervisor here -- alright, so that's a bit awkward, I'm trying to be your therapist and your director at the same time."

__

`_◊◊ KIND OF LIKE BEING SOMEONE'S GIRLFRIEND AND THERAPIST AT THE SAME TIME. ◊◊_`

__

"Right. This is why we don't shoulder all burdens alone. One role interferes with another. So let's pretend I am currently advising your immediate supervisor. I would tell any supervisor that their subordinates absolutely must be allowed to complain, for the same reason that an engine must be allowed to release steam now and then. Otherwise -- "

__

`_◊◊ BOOM. ◊◊_`

__

"Precisely. As I say, you are allowed to complain about your troubles."

__

`_◊◊ I'M COMPLAINING TO YOU. ◊◊_`

__

"And that's part of my job. But you are also allowed to complain to your loved ones. Did you think of that?"

__

`_◊◊ EVEN IF IT MAKES ME SOUND WHINGY? ◊◊_`

__

"Let's say, complain without accusation. Explain your distress with their behavior without making it sound like their behavior is set in stone. 'I wish you would do X' instead of 'you always do Y'. That sort of thing."

__

`_◊◊ BUT IF I AM STILL LETTING THEM TAKE THEIR TIME TO TELL ME WHAT THEY ARE GOING THROUGH, THEN I WILL STILL HAVE TO BE PATIENT. ◊◊_`

__

"Alas, yes. Patient without being acquiescent. It is a fine line. Can you guess what makes the difference?"

__

`_◊◊ YOU ENDURE A LOT FROM SOMEONE BUT...YOU DON’T JUST LET THEM DO THINGS THAT HURT THEM OR YOU. BECAUSE YOU CARE ABOUT THEM AND YOU KNOW THEY CARE ABOUT YOU. ◊◊_`

__

"There you go. And I know you do not wish to sound whingy. But better to risk having an argument than let your relational troubles fester. Love endures arguments as it endures all things."

__

`_◊◊ THEN THERE ARE SOME THINGS I MUST ENDURE. ◊◊_`

__

“Many things, as you grow older. Patience gets easier as you endure your years, day by day.”

__

`_◊◊ I WILL KEEP THAT IN MIND. ◊◊_`

__

...

__

Upon the next day's grey afternoon, Sparrow found Jill again sitting alone by the Reflecting Pool.

__

Whereupon she sat down in Jill's lap and hugged her close.

__

“Oh!” said Jill, as she embraced Sparrow in return. “What’s the matter? Did something happen?”

__

`_◊◊ I’M SCARED. ◊◊_`

__

“And who scared you?”

__

`_◊◊ YOU. ◊◊_`

__

“How?”

__

`_◊◊ BY TRYING NOT TO HURT ME. I’M SCARED FOR YOU. AND I’M SCARED FOR JOCASTA. YOU BOTH TALK LIKE THERE’S REALLY BIG AND PAINFUL STUFF THAT’S HAPPENED TO BOTH OF YOU AND I WANT TO BE ABLE TO COMFORT YOU EVEN IF YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED BECAUSE I DON’T WANT EITHER OF YOU TO EXPLODE AND I DON’T WANT YOU TWO TO BE IN PAIN ANYMORE. I CAN'T STAND SEEING YOU IN PAIN AND I CAN'T LOOK AWAY. ◊◊_`

__

“My dear Sparrow.” Jill laid her head on Sparrow’s shoulder. “You have been a comfort to me all these years. I think I have remained sane because you were there for me.”

__

`_◊◊ WELL CORMAC DODESN’T LIKE TO BE PASSIVE ABOUT PLAYING THAT ROLE AND NEITHER DO I. ◊◊_`

__

“And you would risk my fire?”

__

`_◊◊ FOR YOUR SAKE. ◊◊_`

__

“Sparrow. I told you not to martyr yourself. This time I am not even half-joking.”

__

`_◊◊ HOW DO I KNOW YOU’RE EVEN HALF AS DANGEROUS AS YOU THINK YOU ARE? CAN I NOT AT LEAST TAKE AN INFORMED RISK? CAN I NOT HAVE EVEN A LITTLE HINT? ◊◊_`

__

“You had a little hint back in the empty tower!”

__

`_◊◊ I MEAN A LITTLE HINT TO HOW YOU’RE FEELING. ◊◊_`

__

“You’ve had hints for weeks!”

__

`_◊◊ COMPARED TO WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT MELTING THE DUNGEONS IT ALL SOUNDS LIKE LITTLE SMIDGENS OF HINTS. ◊◊_`

__

“Ah. I see. That’s a good point. Alright, so a hint smaller than spilling the beans, but bigger than what I’ve given…there is the option I threw out there too lightly. You remember what you saw in my eyes?”

__

`_◊◊ I COULD HARDLY FORGET. ◊◊_`

__

“You remember how reluctant Jocasta was to do the same with you?”

__

`_◊◊ IT DID CONCERN ME. ◊◊_`

__

“Are you willing to risk looking into her eyes?”

__

`_◊◊ I WILL TELL YOU WHAT I TOLD JOCASTA MANY WEEKS AGO. WHAT SHE HAS PUT ME THROUGH AT THIS SCHOOL CANNOT POSSIBLY COMPARE TO WHAT I HAVE ALREADY BEEN THROUGH. ◊◊_`

__

“That does not account for the possibility of gaining new scars.”

__

`_◊◊ THEN THERE IS THE CHOICE. RISK NEW SCARS OR REMAIN FOREVER AT A REMOVE, UNABLE TO HELP THE PEOPLE I LOVE. AND THAT WOULD BE NEW PAIN ANYWAY. ◊◊_`

__

“No help for it then,” said Jill. “No way out but forward, though it be through flames. Well then. I will warn Jocasta, and you may pick a day when you are ready.”

__

The two let each other go at last, and stood. Jill took Sparrow by the hand and led her away.

__

__

…

__

__

It was on the next evening in the Hufflepuff common room, just before dinner, that Sparrow made the request she had been waiting to make for a while.

__

“You wish to risk it,” said Jocasta, raising herself from her lazy recline on the setee. “Hm.” She looked to the dormitories. “I daresay we have a secure location available.”

__

“Not here?” said Sparrow.

__

“No.” `_• JILL? IT’S TIME. •_`“Come on.” Jocasta was up and leading Sparrow by the hand in the space of a moment.

__

`_◊◊ WHAT, ARE YOU EAGER FOR THIS? ◊◊_`

__

`_• EAGER TO GET IT OVER WITH. EAGER TO GIVE YOU SOME BETTER HINT OF THE SITUATION, YES, I WOULD SAY SO. I WISH I COULD SAY I WAS EAGER TO LOOK INTO YOUR EYES. BUT NOT IF YOU HAVE TO LOOK INTO MINE. YOU SAID WE WERE ALL BROKEN. I DON’T THINK YOU UNDERSTOOD HOW RIGHT YOU WERE. •_`

__

Here was the door, here was the open door, here was the room bathed in full moonlight as always, though the night beyond the walls was nothing but rain. It felt deceptive, almost cruel, for the window to offer a false view.

__

The moonlight vanished, to be replaced by the pitch blackness of the rainy night.

__

“Hey!” said Jocasta.

__

The darkness vanished, to be replaced by the silvery light of the moon.

__

“We will have to agree on what we want out of this room,” said Jill, from beside the open doorway. “It will be a little more difficult with three people in this place than two.”

__

“That’s what you get for having two girlfriends,” said Jocasta. “Ah, such is the price of extra kisses. But let us get to business. Unless – Jill, do you think we should do this somewhere more open, like up on the walkways?"

__

Jill shook her head. "The walls of this room repair themselves more quickly than the masonry does. And the light would probably be noticeable to anyone looking out the window."

__

"Ah, yes, of course. We also might raise a bit of noise. But surely everyone will be at dinner, and will not notice?"

__

Jill raised an eyebrow. "Everyone besides us?"

__

"Oh. Yes. Ahem. It seems I am too eager to get this over with. Wait until after dinner, then? Ah, but then Sparrow might vomit like you did."

__

"Easy enough to clean up. Sparrow, what say you? Are you willing to wait a little longer?"

__

`_◊◊ MIDNIGHT. THE WITCHING HOUR. LET US DO IT THEN. ◊◊_`

__

Jocasta looked puzzled. "Isn't every hour around here a Witching Hour?"

__

`_◊◊ TECHNICALLY -- YES. BUT MIDNIGHT IS PROPERLY DRAMATIC. ◊◊_`

__

"This isn't a situation to be making light of," said Jill. "But you will see for yourself come midnight."

__

…

__

Midnight came.

__

In the moonlight, in the center of the rug, there knelt Jocasta Carrow, facing Sparrow Jones. Before the door sat Jillian Patil.

__

“Before we begin,” said Jocasta, “I must warn you, you may experience a great deal of pain.”

__

`_◊◊ I HAVE BEEN WARNED. ALTHOUGH I DO NOT RECALL SUCH A THING HAPPENING WHEN I DID THIS WITH JILL. ◊◊_`

__

“Indeed not,” said Jill, “And lucky we did it before the mind links awoke. Else you would have had your head still ringing with echoes.”

__

`_◊◊ OH. ◊◊_`

__

“If you fear to venture this,” said Jocasta, “neither of us will force you to continue.”

__

`_◊◊ I SHALL NOT FALTER. ◊◊_`

__

“Very well,” said Jocasta. “And I do not need to ask if you are sincere.” She closed her eyes and beckoned Sparrow close, closer, closer, until Sparrow’s face was right before her own, so that if Jocasta had her eyes open, they would be holding each other’s gaze already.

__

“Now,” said Jocasta. “I’ll give you a glimpse of what’s beyond the door.”

__

For a moment, nothing happened.

__

But then, at the lines of her eyelids, green light shone.

__

And she opened her eyes.

__

The green of those eyes was, to happy and carefree people, a green that they would have had no chance to become familiar with. It was not the green of leaves, not the green of grass, not the green of a frog or the green of a beetle nor the green of any living thing. No. This close at last, Sparrow recognized it, remembered it from a lesson out of her earliest school days.

__

It had been a lesson all the children had been eager to attend and also eager to leave. None of them had known exactly what they would be shown that afternoon. They had rumors, they had whispers, they had conjecture, they spoke of dreadful possibilities in hushed whispers but oh, how awful everyone feels when the reality is worse than the worst things that one could imagine.

__

It had begun with the curse that had the lightest touch, or looked the nicest at any rate, and if the children were astonished to see a mouse run around on the table entrirely according to the commands of the guest Professor, they did not consider it unsettling. After all, dogs did the same thing, did they not? Though the children had begun to sound more confused and even disturbed when the guest Professor had done the same trick with his assistant. It wasn’t a trick after all, was it.

__

When the guest Professor had cast the next spell at the mouse there was no chance for any of the children to call it a trick, for the squeals of agony and thrashing of limbs admitted no such room for skepticism.

__

Nor was it any fakery on the Mouse’s part after the bright green flash. The mouse was not moving. That was no lie.

__

That was the green that Sparrow Jones saw, out of the eyes of Jocasta Carrow.

__

And then Sparrow began to hear a faint noise, distant, tiny, indistinct, but building by the second.

__

Screams.

__

The voices of old men, of young men, of young women and old, of children, of babes in arms, joining one by one, in howls of agony such as Sparrow had never heard on this earth, each second another one added, and so the sound grew, and grew, filling Sparrow’s head with pain such as she had never felt, had never known she could feel at all. It felt almost like the pain of listening to a very loud sound very close, except not so much in her ears as in her brain alone, nor was there any sense of the bone-shuddering vibrations of true sound. Just the pain of decibels. But that was enough.

__

The true sound that came to her ears was not the sharp sound of screaming, but more jagged sounds of splintering, crumbling, shattering, clattering. Sparrow could not see what was making those sounds. She could not look away. Perhaps the screams held her in place. Or perhaps it was the fact that she had chosen this. Maybe that was how she was surviving. But it had been a stupid choice, hadn’t it? An awful choice, a foolish venture made by a foolhardy, indiscreet, indiscriminate blunderer who led innocent people into situations they could not survive, reckless, inconsiderate, dunderheaded, addle-pated, feckless, gutless, worthless –

__

Sparrow had not once called herself worthless, in all her years. What was happening now? What could she see in those green eyes? Nothing but green, and yet – the green of those eyes was not uniform. In the center the light shone with a hue just a little more blue than the rest, in a curious shape – the shape of a tall, broad humanoid figure.

__

Had Sparrow been able to concentrate she might have been able to guess who that figure might be. But there was no chance of concentrating while her head felt like it was splitting in two. This was a stupid idea, really, she was stupid, for even trying this –

__

Not once had she called herself stupid, in all her years. In fact there was not once in all her years where she had cast so many insults at herself. What on earth was happening here?

__

She had gotten herself into a worse scrape than she ever had, that was it, worthless girl –

__

Damn that voice. It wasn’t even her, was it?

__

Such realization was little consolation, for it did not temper her agony, only gave her the will to continue – but why? Just so Jocasta could look into her own eyes?

__

But that was enough, was it not?

__

But it could not be enough, because she had already passed the point where she thought she could endure this any longer.

__

But she had passed the point. Willingly.

__

And she was not going to let a little thing like pain stop her. Not now. Not the pain of screams, nor the pain of plaster raining down upon her head. And whatever this horror in Jocasta’s head was, she would find its source and face it, someday. Because she was Sparrow Jones, and she was determined to love. She was Sparrow Jones and she was sworn to defend. If she did neither she would be someone else entirely. And she was not giving in.

__

Tempting as it was. Tiring as it was. Her eyes began to close of their own accord.

__

Until a familiar hand held hers, and a new fire filled her heart. She opened her eyes wide, her exhaustion gone.

__

The green light from Jocasta's eyes faded as a yellow light shone upon her face. From what source, Sparrow could not tell. The screams faded, remaining in their number but not their volume. Sparrow’s head no longer screamed in pain. Whatever those voices were, they could not and would not hurt her.

__

The plaster raining down on her head might hurt her.

__

Until even that pain disappeared, replaced by the sound of hail hitting a tin roof.

__

Now Jocasta's eyes nearly closed. Until they too opened wide.

__

And at last Sparrow saw something, deep in the dark recesses of Jocasta’s eyes. A figure, smaller, thinner. Just a lighter shadow on darker shadow, and yet it moved. It danced. A lone figure dancing wildly, madly.

__

At last Sparrow closed her eyes.

__

And sleep came in that moment.

__

…

__

__

Morning, and utter silence.

__

Sparrow opened her eyes.

__

There was a ceiling above her. It was cracked in many places, though as Sparrow watched, the cracks were mending themselves one by one.

__

She was in a bed. Perhaps not the bed she was used to. It had four posts, but it did not have a canopy.

__

What did have was a familiar warmth on either side of her.

__

Now there was a hand in front of her face, counting down from three. Two. One.

__

There was a kiss on both cheeks at once.

__

“Morning, Shield Maiden,” said Jocasta.

__

`_◊◊ JOCASTA. ◊◊_`

__

“Yes?”

__

`_◊◊ WHAT THE HELL. ◊◊_`

__

“That’s exactly what Jill said.”

__

`_◊◊ NO SERIOUSLY. WHAT IN GOD'S NAME WAS THAT. ◊◊_`

__

“That was a glimpse beyond the door. Just a peek. Just a crack. Just a look through the keyhole.”

__

`_◊◊ AND THE SCREAMING IN YOUR HEAD NEVER STOPS? ◊◊_`

__

“It’s always there. In the background. Behind everything else. There are times when it gets louder. And there are times when it quiets down. Like when I’m around you. When I’m around Jill. And…sometimes it disappears entirely.”

__

`_◊◊ LIKE WHEN? ◊◊_`

__

“Last time we did this,” said Jill. “The roars in my head chased away the screams in hers.”

__

“Not exactly easy for either of us to sustain,” said Jocasta. “Nor for Sparrow, I would imagine.”

__

`_◊◊ BUT OTHERWISE IT'S THERE? ◊◊_`

__

“Pretty much.”

__

Sparrow threw herself over Jocasta and pinned her.

__

“Oh!” said Jocasta. “Sparrow, please, I am quite alright.”

__

`_◊◊ OH NO YOU’RE NOT. MAYBE I WILL NEVER LET YOU GO. ◊◊_`

__

“I think you may have to at some point.”

__

`_◊◊ AND YOU KNOW HOW I PLEDGED ON MY SACRED HONOR THAT I WOULD NEVER LET ANYONE COME TO HARM ON MY WATCH? ◊◊_`

__

“Uh oh.”

__

`_◊◊ WHEN WE GET TO YOUR HOUSE I’M GONNA GIVE EVERYONE FAIR WARNING TO LEAVE AND THEN I’M GONNA BURN THE THING TO THE GROUND. ◊◊_`

__

“Okay,” said Jill, “first of all, that’s my job.”

__

“Secondly,” said Jocasta. “It’s not you.” She wrapped her arms around Sparrow and hugged her gently. “Do you want to know what I saw in you?”

__

`_◊◊ UM. ◊◊_`

__

“It was hard to understand at first. I wasn’t sure what I was seeing in the distance. But it looked a lot like the gleam of sunlight on metal. And then…in the distance, I heard a lone trumpet. As if it were at the top of a hill. And then another trumpet. And another. And another. A real fanfare, as if heralding an army that was heading my way. And the trumpets got louder, and louder, until they damn near filled my head. A fanfare with no end. And then…then your eyes shone yellow, yellow like the gleam of sunlight on brass, just like what I had seen before but right in front of me now. I felt like I was looking into the sun itself. Too bright to look into. Blinding. Painful. But I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to. As long as the trumpets sounded. As long as that was the only sound in my head.”

__

`_◊◊ OH WOW. UM. DIDN’T THINK I WAS THAT GRANDIOSE. ◊◊_`

__

“I’m sorry that…that I subjected you to the things in my head. I got more out of it than you did. You got the chance to understand a bit more of what’s going on, I guess.”

__

`_◊◊ JOCASTA. ◊◊_`

__

“What?”

__

`_◊◊ I WOULD GLADLY LOOK INTO YOUR HEAD FOR HOURS IF IT MEANT YOU COULD SPEND THOSE HOURS IN PEACE. JILL. I SAY THE SAME FOR YOU. I AM SORRY THAT THE THINGS IN MY HEAD ARE ALSO DIFFICULT TO ENDURE. I WISH IT WERE NOT SO. I WISH I COULD GIVE YOU BOTH BETTER REST. AND I WISH FOR ONE MORE THING. ◊◊_`

__

“Oh,” said Jill, “What might that be?”

__

`_◊◊ FOR THE SCHOOL TO HIRE A GODDAMN THERAPIST. ◊◊_`

__

“Damn straight,” said Jocasta. She lifted Sparrow off of her. Then she rolled out of bed and stretched. “Would have helped me out years ago. Or been someone to talk to, I guess. Not much the poor sod could do about my home life, when we’re talking about a wealthy pureblood family. Connections, and all that. You know how it is. The kind of people who aren’t ruined by losing one house or even two or all of them.”

__

“Hey,” said Jill, “don’t make me angry while I’m still in bed. I might set the covers on fire.” She rolled out of bed and went over to the trunk in the corner, lifting it up to retrieve the wand she had stored there. She held it tightly in her trembling hand, then closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, then let out a long breath. Her hand stopped trembling.

__

“You look like you’re getting a handle on that thing,” said Jocasta, as she donned her school robes. “Even without the Fetching Stick.”

__

Jill tossed her school robes on rather roughly. “Bit by bit, yes.”

__

`_◊◊ JOCASTA – I’M SORRY ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT. ◊◊_`

__

“Goodness,” said Jocasta. “You apologize twice. Surely I was the one who gave you pain?”

__

`_◊◊ YOU WARNED ME IT WOULD COME. YOU LET ME BRACE MYSELF. BUT THEN – IN THE VERY ACT OF RESISTING SUCH PAIN, I GAVE YOU PAIN YOU DID NOT EXPECT. I AM SORRY. YOU ASKED ME TO BE A SOFT PLACE TO LAND, AND IN THAT MOMENT I FAILED YOU. ◊◊_`

__

“Pain,” said Jocasta. “Hm. You know, I did mention that I was into it.”

__

`_◊◊ HEY. I SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU, NO GETTING KINKY. ◊◊_`

__

“Mrrowr.”

__

`_◊◊ STOP THAT! BAD GIRL! ◊◊_`

__

“I guess I’m being naughty, aren’t I?”

__

`_◊◊ ARGH! ◊◊ _`

__

Jill chuckled. “Sparrow, think about it this way.”

__

`_◊◊ THINK ABOUT IT WHAT WAY! ◊◊_`

__

“Jocasta already tossed one of her biggest secrets to you last November, right? And then at the Yule Ball you tossed a big secret to her? Specifically because both of you were apparently so desperate to trust each other that you shoved your hearts into each other’s hands and acted like it was all a cynical ploy so you could pretend either of you knew what you were doing?”

__

`_◊◊ UM. ◊◊_`

__

“And then Jocasta lets you look at the magical manifestation of her own horrible personal history that she hasn’t ever wanted to explain to anyone besides me?”

__

`_◊◊ UM. ◊◊_`

__

“What the hell makes you think you’re not a soft place to land?”

__

`_◊◊ THE INCREDIBLY LOUD FANFARE AND BRIGHT LIGHT FROM MY EYES THAT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE I’M ACTING LIKE SOME WORLD-CONQUERING HERO THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE TO GET CLOSE TO? ◊◊_`

__

“Ah,” said Jocasta. “I can certainly get close to you. More often, if you’d like.”

__

`_◊◊ WHEN WOULD I NOT LIKE, IS THE QUESTION. ◊◊_`

__

“Well, let me know either way. As it is…Yes, I have felt for quite a while that I had no need to worry about you fulfilling the request I made. I think I made it in the first place because I thought it was something you had already been doing!”

__

`_◊◊ ALREADY? ◊◊_`

__

“Ever since that Sunday on the walkway. Like Jill said. I tossed my heart to you and you caught it.”

__

`_◊◊ OH. YEAH. FUNNY HOW MUCH OF OUR PRESENT LIVES BEGAN FROM THAT LEAP OF FAITH. AND YOU HAD A SOFT LANDING THEN, EH? ◊◊_`

__

“Bingo. And then there was the fiasco with the Forbidden Forest, and…and then you gave me a very hard place to land. Ow.”

__

`_◊◊ YEAH THAT WAS A DUMB IDEA FOR A LOT OF REASONS. ◊◊_`

__

“Well. You can imagine how much I wanted to help you get back to what you had been. So I took the opportunity at the Yule Ball to warn you about the dark road you might go down. And yet…and yet that very evening, you put your heart in my hands.” She waved her wand at her hair, which gathered itself in a bun at the base of her head. Then she knelt upon the bed, and leant forward, lightly resting her forehead on Sparrow’s.

__

`_• THAT IS WHY YOU ALSO HEARD MY CRY, ON MY EVENING OF GREATEST PERIL. •_`

__

`_◊◊ THEN I AM GLAD I CAN BE HERE FOR YOU WHEN YOU NEED ME. ALTHOUGH…AS MUCH AS WE HAVE SPOKEN ABOUT ME BECOMING AN ANIMAGUS…I NEVER ASKED YOU HOW YOU FELT ABOUT YOUR SITUATION, DID I? NEVER TOOK THE TIME. ◊◊_`

__

`_• YOU MEAN, BESIDES THE PART WHERE YOU GATHERED EVERYONE INTO A SPACE WHERE THEY FINALLY FELT COMFORTABLE TALKING ABOUT THEIR PAINFUL PERSONAL HISTORIES? •_`

__

`_◊◊ YEAH BUT THAT WASN’T…ME AND YOU. CLOSE BUT NOT PERSONAL. ◊◊_`

__

`_• FAIR ENOUGH. BUT WE HAVE TIME NOW. PLENTY OF TIME. •_`

__

`_◊◊ THE REST OF OUR LIVES? ◊◊_`

__

`_• IF YOU WILL IT. •_`

__

`_◊◊ I DO. ◊◊_`

__

`_• AS DO I. •_`

__

`_††††† WAIT, DID YOU TWO JUST MARRY EACH OTHER? †††††_`

__

`_• DAMMIT. I MOVE TOO FAST. •_`

__

`_◊◊ YEAH, YOU MIGHT WANT TO HOLD OFF UNTIL WE CAN ACTUALLY MAKE IT OFFICIAL AND DELIBERATE AND ALL. ◊◊_`

__

`_• AS YOU WISH. •_`

__

`_††††† AND LET ME KNOW IF THERE’S ROOM FOR ONE MORE. †††††_`

__

`_◊◊ I DON’T KNOW, JILL, IF YOU WANT TO JUMP IN WE WOULD NEED ROOM FOR TWO MORE. ◊◊_`

__

`_††††† I DO. †††††_`

__

Jill clambered onto the bed and draped herself over the two in a big hug, then rolled over, dragging Sparrow and Jocasta with her, so that they wound up splayed over her, and none of them minded it at all.

__

`_◊◊ SO YOU BOTH THINK THIS WILL WORK? ◊◊_`

__

`_††††† I THINK WE CAN MAKE IT WORK. †††††_`

__

`_• I THINK IT’S CLEAR THAT WE TRUST EACH OTHER ENOUGH TO MAKE IT WORK. •_`

__

`_◊◊ THAT SETTLES THAT THEN. I’LL SEE WHERE I CAN FIND SOME PROPER RINGS. ◊◊_`

__

“Oh wonderful,” said Jocasta. “Some nice diamond rings.”

__

“Nope,” said Jill. “In these trying times, we must think of frugality. You get wood.”

__

Jocasta suddenly had a wicked gleam in her eye. “I have that already, don’t I, in a manner of speaking.”

__

“What do you – dammit, I set that one up like a bowling pin didn’t I.”

__

“Not sure what you’re referring to, but yes. Now if you will please excuse me.” She rolled off of Jill and sat up straight. “Sparrow, would you like me to get close to you now?" 

__

Sparrow nodded.

__

"Then let us begin today's lesson."

__

Jocasta’s reputation for lust was well-founded, and yet not quite to the level some people assumed. She would not venture under any bit of cloth, nor over every possible area of the human body, at least in Sparrow’s experience, for, as Jocasta had said, both subjects were part of next year’s curriculum, and Sparrow had not yet passed her oral exam. But of the areas of Sparrow she was willing to go, Sparrow returned each attention in kind, by now having mastered a few subjects, such that in this, at the very least, she could claim to be a model student.

__

“Pause a moment,” said Jill.

__

Sparrow and Jocasta paused, and turned to Jill with curious eyes.

__

"You are disrupting the lesson," said Jocasta.

__

"I just wanted to give you my extra-credit work, that's all."

__

"And that would be..."

__

Jill tapped her lips once, then did the same for Sparrow, then for Jocasta.

__

Jocasta’s eyes grew wide. She and Sparrow nodded vigorously.

__

When it came to Jill’s mastery of the current subject, Sparrow presumed that she must have been studying very well indeed, for a kiss from Jill was rather like grading the tests for a first-year herbology class and seeing one sheet filled with a treatise on the proper care of Fanged Geranium. Something to leave you sitting there in a daze.

__

When Sparrow shook her head and remembered where she was, she saw Jill stepping out the door backwards, a wicked grin on her face.

__


	34. In Which Jocasta Keeps Dropping out of the Eaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes some work to convince Jocasta that she's worth having around. Especially when SOMEONE is being JUDGY.

Thereafter Sparrow had less trouble sleeping than usual.

Which was to say, not entirely without trouble. There were times when her dreams were tinged an unsettling shade of green, if they were not punctuated by images of burned buildings. And her days were likewise troubled, considering all she had seen, all she had learned – it was easy to cling to Jocasta, then, as if to make sure she would not go anywhere.

But Jocasta herself wished to go to Miranda’s greenhouse, as ever. So Sparrow did need to let her go. And what to do in the meantime? Cling to Jill, of course, but if Jill wished to keep up her broom practice, then the most Sparrow could do would be to watch from a distance, or keep flinging herself into the air.

But there was always Cormac, except for the fact that he wanted to spend more time alone with Violet.

And yet there was one person who did wish to meet with Sparrow -- one person who she had not expected to see beckoning to her from around a corner. And so on a Sunday afternoon, Sparrow found herself sitting under a square recessed light, in the midst of green pillars, at a square table, opposite Percival Bulstrode.

"You wished to speak with me," said Percival. "Something about a letter?"

Sparrow nodded.

"Ah. Well, my apologies for keeping you this long. I have been busy. With my studies. Got to get ahead of the final exams, and all that. Never mind, never mind. Let's see this letter."

`_◊◊ OH! I AM SORRY, PERCIVAL. I DO NOT HAVE THE LETTER ON ME. I SHALL BE BUT A MOMENT. ◊◊_` Sparrow rose from the table and dashed out of the room.

As it was a Saturday without classes, the hallways were somewhat crowded, and it took longer than normal to traverse them. Yet they were not so crowded that the source of a familiar voice in Sparrow's mind should have been invisible. `_• HEY THERE, SONGBIRD. I'M READY TO TAG ALONG WITH YOU AGAIN. •_`

`_◊◊ SORRY, JOCASTA. I HAVE PRIVATE MATTERS TO ATTEND TO. ◊◊_` And Sparrow did not wait for an answer, but sped away as best she could, finally reaching her common room, finally reaching her regular dormitory, opening up her trunk and digging through it to reach the letter she had stashed at the bottom.

"Come on," said Jocasta. "You know you like having me around."

Sparrow whirled around to find Jocasta standing there. `_◊◊ THAT IS CORRECT, MY DEAR. BUT I MUST HAVE A CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION. AND YOU SHOULDN'T LET YOURSELF BE SEEN IN A HUFFLEPUFF DORMITORY ANYWAY. ◊◊_`Once again, she did not wait for an answer, but sped out of the dormitory, out of the common room, through the hallways and up the stairs to the Room of Requirement.

Within a few minutes Sparrow was sitting at the square table, catching her breath as Percival read over her letter.

Percival handed it back to Sparrow across the square table.

`_◊◊ VERDICT? ◊◊_`

"Nothing too incriminating," said Percival. "Although you need to lose the bits about the Headmistress being gone on a mission. Wouldn't want to be letting that get out, would you? You might compromise her operations."

`_◊◊ AH YES. LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS. THANK YOU FOR CATCHING THAT. ◊◊_`

"Also you might want to avoid explaining too much about the details of your suspension. The situation still looks like favoritism to me. To someone even less charitable it looks like you're getting off scot-free."

`_◊◊ I HAVE TO BE HONEST TO MY PARENTS. ◊◊_`

"And that means you're being transparent to anyone who intercepts this thing. Next time you see them, set up some kind of secret signal or letter code or something so that you can hide a message in an ordinary letter."

`_◊◊ INVISIBLE INK? ◊◊_`

"If you magic the ink to be invisible, someone can use a counter-charm on it."

`_◊◊ NO, NO. I MEAN THE MUGGLE VERSION. ◊◊_`

"The...muggle version. Muggles can make ink disappear?"

`_◊◊ NO. YES. SORT OF. ◊◊_`

"How?"

Sparrow winked. `_◊◊ SECRET. CAN'T HAVE YOU BLABBING TO WIZARDS, NOW CAN I? ◊◊_`

"Ah. Ha. Ha. I see. You are getting more cynical after all. Although I suppose I could just ask another muggleborn about it. Not a very secure secret. Although...neither is the Wizarding World, really. If it's possible for muggleborn children to write home with details of the castle, without a bit of censorship, then I can hardly believe the Statute of Secrecy hasn't shattered to pieces by now."

`_◊◊ MAYBE THAT WILL MAKE THINGS MORE CONVENIENT FOR ME. ◊◊_`

"The opposite."

`_◊◊ HM? ◊◊_`

"If Muggles can find out about us so easily, if they know there's something like us going on, and they don't investigate, then...maybe they're not interested. Maybe if you offer them something wonderful, they won't care about it."

`_◊◊ I MUST DETERMINE THAT FOR MYSELF, REGARDLESS OF THE RESULT. I MUST BE HONEST WITH MY INTENTIONS AND WILLING TO ACCEPT WHATEVER VERDICT THEY GIVE ME. ◊◊_`

"Hm. That sounds more like idealism."

`_◊◊ I WOULD CALL IT MATURITY. ◊◊_`

"Fair enough. I wonder if I have my own idealism as well, here. I would see the Statute of Secrecy erased, will you or nil you."

`_◊◊ OH? ◊◊_`

"I have thought for a while now that the whole thing was a convenient excuse. A way for a government to legally get rid of people it doesn't like, by charging them with an accusation that makes everyone hate them even if it is never proven. So, I would see the statute end. Would you call that cynicism or idealism?"

`_◊◊ I WOULD CALL THAT SMOLDERING ANGER. ◊◊_`

"Fair enough."

"I would call it disappointing," said a familiar voice from behind Sparrow. She turned to see Jocasta stepping out of the shadows once more. "I do not like to see Sparrow getting more cynical under your influence, Percival. And I would prefer that the role of cynical bastard fall to me, not to you."

`_◊◊ IF YOU WANT TO BE A CYNICAL BASTARD, JOCASTA, YOU COULD START BY ACTING MORE DISCREETLY. FOLLOWING ME INTO CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATIONS AND THEN ANNOUNCING YOUR PRESENCE IS THE OPPOSITE OF THAT. IT IS ALSO VERY RUDE. ◊◊_`

"Fair enough," said Jocasta, and she departed the room without another word, leaving Percival to look as though he had no idea what just happened.

Sparrow was not certain if she knew either.

...

And so Sparrow found herself sitting at the central table in the dim Divination classroom, alone on a Sunday evening, with only the shelves full of books for company.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” said Professor Clearwater, as she appeared from behind a curtain. “I told you all to stay together.”

Sparrow shrugged. `_◊◊ SOMETIMES WE EACH HAVE SEPARATE GOALS TO ACHIEVE. ◊◊_`

“And in those moments I can’t tell your futures at all.”

`_◊◊ OH I SEE. WE STICK TOGETHER FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE. ◊◊_`

“Precisely. And my convenience is part of your survival. Now, what manner of fortune could I possibly tell for you here, when you are alone?”

`_◊◊ NOT FOR ME. FOR JOCASTA CARROW. ◊◊_`

“You want me to tell…someone else’s fortune.”

`_◊◊ I HAVE BECOME EVEN MORE SCARED FOR HER IN RECENT DAYS. ◊◊_`

The Professor sighed. “Then I am sorry. It is as I have said. The fates may tell me in random moments of your separate perils, but elsewise I can only look to the moments when you are all together.”

`_◊◊ DO THAT, THEN. ◊◊_`

“As you wish!” Professor Clearwater sat down and raised her hand. Her crystal ball flew straight to it. She set it on the table.

`_◊◊ SO NOW WE…LET ME SEE IF I REMEMBER. CHANT SOMETHING? ◊◊_`

“That’s all theatrics,” said the Professor. “All you really need to say is the magic word.”

`_◊◊ PLEASE? ◊◊_`

“It pays to be polite.” Professor Clearwater motioned Sparrow to look closer. Together they leaned over the ball. “Alright, now, Mr. Crystal ball, if you would be so kind as to show us the events of the next time the Six Secretive Nitwits are gathered together?”

For a moment, Sparrow could see nothing. And then – two things. First, a glowing red heart. Then, an explosion.

“Damn,” said Professor Clearwater. “Doesn’t look good. Terribly sorry, Sparrow, your friends are going to explode.”

`_◊◊ DON’T JOKE. ◊◊_`

“My apologies.” The professor lifted a sleeve to cover her mouth. “I spoke out of turn. Now, you can see how much of the usual divination business depends on interpretation of ambiguous signals. In this case, I have one idea for what the two images mean. Have you a different idea?”

`_◊◊ I THINK…CONSIDERING THE SEASON, IT MUST HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH VALENTINE’S DAY. SOMETHING WILL EXPLODE ON VALENTINE’S DAY. A MAGICAL ACCIDENT, PERHAPS? OR AN ATTACK? ◊◊_`

“It’s when you’re all together,” said the Professor. “Not likely to be a classroom accident. So…what sort of event would that be?”

`_◊◊ THE YULE BALL. SOMETHING WILL EXPLODE AT THE YULE BALL. DESPITE THE CAREFUL SAFETY PLANNING OF ALL THE TEACHERS. NO. SOMEONE WILL ATTACK THE YULE BALL. ◊◊_`

“Bit of a leap,” said Professor Clearwater, taking the crystal ball in her hands. “If we'd got three images out of this thing we would be able to triangulate. But, yes, considering the fact that you were a real loudmouth in December and January, I think an attack is likely. Some manner of explosion. But as to what...hm. One moment.” She vanished behind the curtain, and came back with a bowl full of water and a bottle. “This one might be harder to read. Alright, oil, would you please show us further details of what Mr. Crystal Ball showed us?”

With this, she tipped the bottle over the bowl, and poured in a measure of oil.

The result was a lot of scattered bits of oil on the water’s surface.

“Hm,” said the Professor. “Two ways to interpret this again. Either all the people in the room are scattered, or all the attacks are.”

`_◊◊ I WOULD SAY ALL THE PEOPLE. IT IS A DANCE, AFTER ALL. ◊◊_`

“I mean, during the attack. But I didn’t specify that to the bowl, did I? Well. I am afraid you did not get exactly what you want, Sparrow, but at the very least we are forwarned. I will do what I can to narrow down details, and tell the Deputy Headmaster to call off the dance.”

“Or,” said a familiar voice behind Sparrow, “you could assume that nobody will listen to vague divinations, and plan your defenses accordingly.”

Sparrow whirled around to see Jocasta standing there, looking about as serious as she did these days.

Sparrow’s eyes blazed golden. `_◊◊ JOCASTA! I HAVE REPEATEDLY WARNED YOU ABOUT THIS BEHAVIOR! FOR GOD’S SAKE, AT LEAST HAVE THE SENSE TO AVOID BARGING IN IF YOU CAN’T STOP YOURSELF FROM EAVESDROPPING! ◊◊_`

During Sparrow’s tirade Jocasta had flinched and put her arms in front of her face, as if to shield herself from an approaching blow. When it was over, she regained her composure, and her expression was utterly blank. She bowed to Sparrow and said, “My apologies. I simply do not have the capacity to believe many people will heed warnings of peril, when it means missing an event they have looked forward to for months, and that if the warnings come from a source with a reputation for uncertainty there will be even fewer who listen.”

`_◊◊ THAT REMAINS TO BE SEEN. HOW ON EARTH DID YOU GET IN HERE ANYWAY? HOW DO YOU KEEP GETTING INTO PLACES? YOU TOLD ME YOU COULD NOT TRANSFIGURE. ◊◊_`

Jocasta straightened up and fished a small vial out of her pocket. “Hardly a lie,” she said, “but I did ask Miranda for a substitute until I could regain my ability. So, five-minute polyjuice potion.”

`_◊◊ PITY POOR YOU IF THE CONVERSATION TAKES MORE THAN FIVE MINUTES. ◊◊_`

“I have come to that conclusion, yes.”

“Miss Carrow,” said Professor Clearwater, "I assume you would not wish anyone to pry into your own business?”

Jocasta shook her head. 

“Keep that in mind if you wish to avoid alienating people. I am docking fifty points from Slytherin for your actions, but that is a light consequence compared to driving friends away. Now, I have my work to do, and you have yours, I presume, so goodnight.” She rose and disappeared behind the curtain without another word.

Well. At least everyone was forewarned.

Jocasta was down the ladder before Sparrow had even thought to open the hatch, and as Sparrow stepped off the end of the ladder she could see her girlfriend halfway down the hall already.

Sparrow’s dash to catch up with her was hardly silent, but instead of offering commentary, Jocasta attempted to walk faster.

`_◊◊ JOCASTA, WAIT. ◊◊_`

“I understand I am an idiot, but I do not wish to discuss the matter.”

`_◊◊ STUPIDITY IS NOT AN EXCUSE, JOCASTA. IT IS A WEAKNESS TO OVERCOME. ◊◊_`

“Oh, will you just – never mind.” Jocasta took another vial out of her pocket, downed the contents and disappeared, leaving behind her only the brief buzz of tiny wings.

Damn it all.

…

Jocasta did not come to bed that night. It was only Sparrow writing a new letter at a desk in the moonlight, and Jill sitting up in bed, saying nothing.

After a while Sparrow was finished writing, and Jocasta was still not there. Sparrow rose from the desk with a sigh, and tucked herself into bed, snuggling close to the one companion she still had.

"You miss me already?" said Jill.

`_◊◊ I'M A LITTLE SURPRISED YOU'RE STILL HERE, THAT'S ALL. ◊◊_`

"Should I not be?"

`_◊◊ I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT YOU WOULD BE RUNNING HELTER-SKELTER ALL OVER THE CASTLE LOOKING FOR YOUR GIRL, AFTER WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME. ◊◊_`

“I will admit,” said Jill, “I am disappointed and a little scared. I miss my Jocasta. But I know how to reach her now, and she knows how to reach me. Tonight she is alive, if a little confused and a lot hurt. She says you yelled at her a few times today and left her behind. So now she doesn't know if she ought to be around you or not.”

`_◊◊ ALRIGHT, SO I GUESS I’M THE REAL IDIOT HERE. ◊◊_`

“Hey.” Jill wrapped Sparrow in a fierce hug. “Don’t ever call yourself an idiot.”

`_◊◊ BUT I AM ONE. ◊◊_`

“Nuh-uh. You told me to never call myself a problem. I’m saying the same to you. Alright? You can always do better if you want and if you try.”

`_◊◊ OH NO. MY OWN WORDS, THEY HAVE RETURNED. ◊◊_`

“Better these words than an insult, eh?” Jill let Sparrow go, though Sparrow remained on Jill’s lap, arms wrapped around her. “That’s what you get for being a sweetie-pie. You get more pie.”

`_◊◊ BUT I WAS NOT NICE TONIGHT. I BET JOCASTA DOESN’T WANT TO TALK TO ME AT ALL NOW. ◊◊_`

“I wouldn’t say that.”

`_◊◊ HM? ◊◊_`

“She’s willing to speak with you.”

`_◊◊ HOW DID YOU HEAR HER BUT I DIDN’T? OH NO. SHE MUST HATE ME A LOT RIGHT NOW. ◊◊_`

Jill shook her head. “Not like that. It’s just a little trick she and I worked out some time ago. If you keep her fixed in your mind, your conversation will be private. Give it a try.”

`_◊◊ ALRIGHT. KEEP HOLDING ME THOUGH? ◊◊_`

“I can hardly resist.” Jill wrapped her arms around Sparrow once more.

Sparrow closed her eyes, and let her thoughts fill with the memory of her favorite Animagus.

`_◊◊ JOCASTA. DID YOU WANT TO TALK? ◊◊_`

For a moment there was no answer.

Then, all of a sudden, the image of Jocasta in her head turned from a set of hazy memories to a faceless figure made of green light, and began to move on its own.

Specifically, it sat down in a high-backed armchair and then folded its arms and crossed its legs, as if Jocasta were a child preparing to hear a lecture from a well-meaning adult.

`_◊◊ I WAS INFORMED THAT YOU WERE WILLING. ◊◊_`

`_• THAT IS CORRECT. •_`

`_◊◊ YET UNWILLING? ◊◊_`

`_• HOW CAN I POSSIBLY SPEAK TO YOU? YOU DID NOT WISH TO SPEAK WITH ME TODAY, EXCEPT TO BRING YOUR JUDGMENT CRASHING DOWN UPON ME. BUT NOW YOU WOULD HAVE MY COMPANY AFTER ALL? •_`

`_◊◊ I ENJOY BEING ABLE TO CONFIRM THAT YOU ARE ALIVE. ◊◊_`

The image said nothing.

`_◊◊ AND I LIKE HEARING YOU TALK. ◊◊_`

Still nothing.

`_◊◊ AND…I’M SORRY FOR EFFECTIVELY CALLING YOU AN IDIOT. AND FOR YELLING AT YOU. ◊◊_`

`_• WELL YOU WERE RIGHT, WEREN’T YOU? I’M A RECKLESS FOOL. •_`

`_◊◊ HEY. ◊◊_`

`_• WHAT? •_`

`_◊◊ JILL TOLD ME TO NEVER CALL MYSELF AN IDIOT. BECAUSE I TOLD HER TO NEVER CALL HERSELF A PROBLEM. SO DON'T YOU DO THAT EITHER. DON'T CALL YOURSELF A FOOL. ◊◊_`

`_• SO WHAT SHOULD I CALL MYSELF, THEN? •_`

`_◊◊ NOTHING. ◊◊_`

`_• THAT SOUNDS A LITTLE COLD. •_`

`_◊◊ NO I MEAN, DON’T CALL YOURSELF ANYTHING. DON’T GET LOST IN THE INSULTS. JUST THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU CAN DO. AND HOW YOU CAN MAKE UP FOR DOING DUMB THINGS. ◊◊_`

`_• THAT'S WHAT I WAS TRYING TO DO WITH BARGING INTO YOUR CONVERSATIONS. I WAS GETTING OUT IN FRONT OF BEING CAUGHT. I WANTED TO TRY OUT YOUR APPROACH TO HONESTY. BUT IT TURNED OUT TO BE A DISASTER. I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU KEEP PUTTING UP WITH ME. •_`

`_◊◊ WHY NOT? ◊◊_`

`_• BECAUSE I'M AN IDIOT. •_`

`_◊◊ HEY. WHAT DID I JUST SAY? ◊◊_`

`_• NOT TO CALL MYSELF AN IDIOT. OH, I'M DOING IT AGAIN. AND I'M NOT LISTENING TO YOU AM I? I'M SORRY. YOU MIGHT AS WELL LEAVE ME ALONE FOREVER. •_`

`_◊◊ WELL I DON'T WANT TO. ◊◊_`

`_• WHY THE HELL NOT? •_`

`_◊◊ BECAUSE I LIKE HAVING YOU AROUND. AND JILL LIKES HAVING YOU AROUND. AND MIRANDA LIKES HAVING YOU AROUND. ◊◊_`

`_• WHAT, EVEN AMIDST ALL MY RECKLESS ERRORS? I ALMOST GOT YOU KILLED A FEW TIMES. AND I ALMOST GOT JILL KILLED. AND I KIND OF MESSED UP MIRANDA'S GOOD REPUTATION AND I GOT US ALL SUSPENDED AND -- •_`

`_◊◊ AND HOW MUCH WE HAVE LEARNED FROM THOSE MOMENTS! SOMETIMES ONLY A RECKLESS RAPSCALLION CAN MOVE THINGS FORWARD, BECAUSE ONLY THEY HAVE NO FEAR OF MOVING FORWARD. IMAGINE IF YOU HAD NEVER PROPOSED TO HELP ME BECOME AN ANIMAGUS. I WOULD NEVER HAVE THOUGHT OF IT. ◊◊_`

`_• AND YOU AGREED TO IT. AND THEN YOU TIED IT INTO YOUR MAD SCHEME. MAYBE YOU'RE THE RECKLESS IDIOT. MAYBE WE BOTH ARE. •_`

`_◊◊ SEE, WE'RE A TEAM. I AM YOUR MAD SCHEMER AND YOU ARE MY LADY LAWBREAKER. ◊◊_`

`_• YOU MAKE ME SOUND SO HEROIC. ALL I SEE IN ME RIGHT NOW IS SOMEONE WHO KEEPS GETTING PEOPLE HURT. I DON'T WANT TO KEEP DOING THAT. I WOULD RATHER STAY AWAY UNTIL YOU CALL UPON ME. •_`

`_◊◊ OKAY FINE. I'M CALLING UPON YOU NOW. ◊◊_`

`_• NO, I MEAN WHEN YOU NEED ME. •_`

`_◊◊ FINE. I NEED YOU NOW. ◊◊_`

`_• OH, NO YOU DON'T. YOU JUST WANT ME NOW. •_`

`_◊◊ YOU KNOW SENDING WILL ALLOW NO LIE. BELIEVE THAT I BELIEVE I NEED YOU NOW. I NEED TO KNOW YOU ARE HAPPY. I NEED TO KNOW YOU ARE SAFE. OTHERWISE I WILL BE VERY SCARED AND I WILL MISS YOU AND MAYBE I WON'T EVEN BE ABLE TO FALL ASLEEP AND NEITHER WILL JILL AND JILL WILL GET REALLY SCARED AND YOU KNOW HOW MUCH SHE LIKES HAVING YOU AROUND AND HOW MUCH SHE NEEDS YOU AND HOW MUCH YOU NEED HER SO IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE FOR YOU TO KEEP BEATING YOURSELF UP LIKE THIS. ◊◊_`

`_• IT IS WHAT I DESERVE. •_`

`_◊◊ OKAY, FIRST OF ALL, NOBODY DESERVES ANYTHING -- ◊◊_`

`_• SURELY GOOD LITTLE CHILDREN DESERVE DESSERT? •_`

`_◊◊ EVERYBODY DESERVES DESSERT. SECONDLY, BEATING YOURSELF UP DOESN'T ACTUALLY HELP ANYONE. EVEN YOU. ◊◊_`

`_• SURELY IT IS PROPER PENANCE? •_`

`_◊◊ NO! IT DOESN'T ACTUALLY CLEAN UP ANY MESS YOU MADE. IT DOESN'T PATCH ANYTHING UP THAT YOU BROKE. IT DOESN'T...CREATE ANYTHING. IT JUST BREAKS YOU DOWN. IT'S LIKE YOU'RE SERVING OUT SOMEONE'S REVENGE UNDER THE PRETENSE OF STERN JUSTICE. NOBODY WANTS REVENGE AGAINST YOU, JOCASTA. NOBODY WANTS YOU TO SUFFER FOR THE SAKE OF ANSWERING SOMEONE ELSE'S SUFFERING. ◊◊_`

`_• THAT IS NOT TRUE. •_`

`_◊◊ WHO ON EARTH WOULD -- OH. I SEE. ◊◊_`

`_• YOU SEE. •_`

`_◊◊ WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU? ◊◊_`

`_• NOTHING I DIDN'T DESERVE.` The space behind the chair began to glow dimly green, the color that always shone from Jocasta's eyes. `BUT AS FOR EVERYONE ELSE -- The green glow faded. ``_`

``

``

` ` `` ` `

` ` `` ` `

`_◊◊ FINE. FINE. I WILL PUT IT ANOTHER WAY. NONE OF THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE WANT YOU TO SUFFER. NOT ME, NOT JILL, NOT MIRANDA, NOT VIOLET -- ACTUALLY I CAN'T SPEAK FOR HER, SHE'S HARD TO READ SOMETIMES. ◊◊_`

`_• WHAT ABOUT CORMAC? •_`

`_◊◊ WHAT ABOUT HIM? ◊◊_`

`_• I KIND OF SENT HIS FRIEND INTO THE FORBIDDEN FOREST AND ALMOST GOT HER KILLED. •_`

`_◊◊ OKAY WELL IF YOUR REALLY WANT TO KNOW, HE TOLD ME TO KEEP MY REVENGE PROPORTIONAL. ◊◊_`

`_• OH DID HE. •_`

`_◊◊ AND THEN HE GOT REALLY MAD AT ME FOR BREAKING YOUR WRIST. ◊◊_`

`_• I SEE. YEAH, I GUESS THAT TRACKS. HE'S NOT THE REVENGE TYPE. HE'S MORE LIKE THE LOYAL PUPPY DOG TYPE. •_`

`_◊◊ AND SO AM I. IMAGINE IF YOU KICKED YOUR DOG AND THEN YOU GOT SO BROKEN UP ABOUT IT THAT YOU DISAPPEARED FOREVER. DO YOU THINK THE DOG WOULD BE HAPPY TO SEE YOU GONE? ◊◊_`

`_• UM. MAYBE? •_`

`_◊◊ I DON'T THINK SO. I THINK YOUR DOG WOULD BE SAD BECAUSE YOU WERE NOT THERE. THEY WOULD NOT KNOW WHY YOU WERE GONE. SO THEY WOULD SIT AT THE DOOR FOREVER, WAITING FOR YOU. I'VE HEARD STORIES ABOUT DOGS WHO SAT AT TRAIN STATIONS FOR THEIR WHOLE LIVES, WAITING FOR THEIR OWNERS TO ARRIVE LIKE USUAL, NEVER UNDERSTANDING THAT THE OWNER HAD DIED. I BET IF VIOLET DIED THEN CORMAC WOULD SIT IN THE LIBRARY ALL DAY EVERY DAY. IF YOU DIED I DON'T KNOW WHERE I WOULD STAY ALL DAY BUT I WOULD STAY THERE. ◊◊_`

`_• YOU SURE MAKE YOURSELF SOUND LIKE A DOG. MAYBE THAT IS WHAT YOU WILL BECOME. •_`

`_◊◊ WE SHALL HAVE TO SEE. BUT AS FOR NOW...IT IS AS JILL SAID, THAT IN LOVE WE SUSPEND JUDGMENT. IT IS AS I SAID, THAT YOU MUST NOT GET LOST IN THE INSULTS, BUT MAKE UP FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE. AKNOWLEDGE WHAT YOU DID WRONG, REPAIR THE DAMAGE, LEARN FROM YOUR MISTAKES AND CHANGE YOUR BEHAVIOR. THAT IS HOW YOU ATONE. NOT BY SCOURGING YOURSELF. ◊◊_`

`_• CURIOUS. YOU SOUND PRECISELY THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT THE SCREAMS TELL ME TO DO. •_`

`_◊◊ THEY TELL YOU TO DO STUFF? LIKE, NOT JUST SCREAMING? ◊◊_`

`_• REMEMBER WHAT I TOLD YOU ABOUT_`` BAD ANSWERS? •`

`_◊◊ YES, THAT WAS -- OH. ALRIGHT NOW I REALLY NOW I WANT YOU HERE. BECAUSE NOW I'M REALLY SCARED. MAYBE I GRAB YOU AND DON'T LET YOU GO AT ALL, EVER. FOR ALL I KNOW YOU'RE PERCHED ON A STAIRCASE RAILING RIGHT NOW. ◊◊_`

`_• WELL, IF YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT, I WILL CONSIDER COMING TO YOUR BED AGAIN. DO NOT FEAR FOR ME RIGHT NOW. I AM SNUG IN MY OWN BED. AND ALONE. HMPH. THAT'S MY FAULT, I GUESS. TELL ME, HOW CAN I ATONE FOR TODAY'S MISTAKES? •_`

`_◊◊ LET'S SEE...YOU CAN AVOID THROWING YOURSELF OFF A HIGH PLACE. ◊◊_`

`_• CHECK. •_`

`_◊◊ YOU CAN HEED MY WARNINGS. ◊◊_`

`_• CHECK. •_`

`_◊◊ YOU CAN SWEAR TO KEEP YOURSELF HIDDEN IF YOU'RE GOING TO BE EAVESDROPPING. ◊◊_`

`_• YEAH, THAT SEEMS LIKE A GOOD IDEA. •_`

`_◊◊ ALSO I'M SORRY FOR BLOWING UP AT YOU. AND FOR DITCHING YOU TODAY. I WILL TRY TO COMMUNICATE BETTER ABOUT WHEN I NEED TO BE ALONE. ◊◊_`

`_• WELL I CERTAINLY DESERVED TO -- NO, NO, NEVER MIND DESERVING. LET'S JUST SAY I UNDERSTAND WHY YOU WERE ANGRY. BUT WE'RE TALKING ABOUT MY ATONEMENT HERE. IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE I CAN DO? ◊◊_`

`_◊◊ WHAT ELSE, WHAT ELSE. AH, I KNOW. YOU CAN EITHER INSIST TO THE ENTIRE STUDENT BODY THAT THE VALENTINE’S DAY BALL IS A BAD IDEA – ◊◊_`

`_• THAT'LL BE A HARD SELL. •_`

`_◊◊ OR YOU CAN KEEP YOUR WAND ON YOU AT THE BALL AND KEEP A SHARP EYE OUT FOR TROUBLE. ◊◊_`

`_• EASIER. SEEMS LIKE A LAST-LINE-OF-DEFENSE KIND OF THING, THOUGH. •_`

`_◊◊ HEY. YOU KNOW WHO THE LAST LINE OF DEFENSE IS? ME. AND I DON’T BREAK. ◊◊_`

`_• I WOULD NEVER FORCE YOU INTO SUCH A ROLE. THEN AGAIN, I WOULDN’T HAVE TO. YOU ALWAYS JUMP INTO IT. •_`

`_◊◊ YEAH, THAT’S MY PROBLEM. YOU HAVE YOUR PROBLEMS. I CAN HELP YOU WITH THEM, IF YOU WANT. OR I CAN TRY. ◊◊_`

`_• I KEEP THINKING THERE’S NOT ENOUGH TIME IN MY LIFE LEFT TO RESOLVE THEM. AND YET...YOU'RE HERE. AND JILL IS HERE. •_`

`_• MAYBE I DO HAVE MORE TIME NOW. •_`

The image of Jocasta slowly faded.

`_◊◊ JOCASTA? ◊◊_`

Sparrow opened her eyes.

Still no Jocasta. Just Jill.

For the next few minutes, Jocasta did not return, nor answer any further calls. Sparrow and Jill held each other closely, waiting, hoping nothing had gone wrong after all.

Then there was a small poof, and there stood Jocasta, setting a glass vial down on the nightstand and crawling into bed. She snuggled close to Sparrow.

` ◊◊ OH HELP. I HAVE BECOME A PIE FILLING. ◊◊ `

"That's because you're a sweetie-pie," said Jill. "But I did not expect my other girlfriend to be here tonight. Couldn't stand to be away after all, Jo?"

“Someone couldn't stand for me to be away," said Jocasta.

"Ah," said Jill. "Well. That is definitely true."

"And I will admit that my being away was largely self-destructive."

"It did sound like that's what you were on about."

"And Mrs. Clearwater said we had to stick together.”

“Maybe we should all sleep in this bed then.”

“I think Miranda would object.”

“Around the bed then?”

“Yeah,” said Jocasta. “A real slumber part – I mean a – dammit.”

`_◊◊ IT’S FINE. AS LONG AS YOU TWO ARE HERE THEN I AM FINE. NO MORE LETHIFOLDS CREEPING INTO MY DREAMS. ◊◊_`

“Likewise,” said Jocasta. “And Sparrow?”

`_◊◊ HM? ◊◊_`

“Love you too.”

`_◊◊ WHEN DID I SAY THAT THIS EVENING? ◊◊_`

“You spent a fair few minutes on it.”

`_◊◊ AH HA. WELL THEN. GOOOOOOOODNIGHT. ◊◊_`

And Sparrow’s dreams that evening were tinted green as ever.

Yet for all she was physically alone as she wandered through them – she did not feel alone within them, anymore.


	35. End Part 2: This Valentine's Day, please gag me with a spoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparrow can't get out of going to the Valentine's Day Ball this time.

The days before Valentine’s Day did not go well.

For one thing, neither Professor Budge nor very many people believed that there was any danger involved in having another school dance. Some of them, such as Professor Budge, were well-versed in Divination enough to offer their own interpretations, such as the possibility of a magical accident, or the idea that a heart could very well represent any aspect of Valentine’s Day, and if the Cupids were going around handing out heart-shaped cards then the explosion could happen with any of them, which was so much of a bother to prevent that the Cupids might as well not be hired this year – but oh, that was too much to bear, wasn’t it.

Sparrow’s opinion of romance was not improved by such a stance.

Others simply thought that the Divination professor was being hysterical, and that nothing bad would actually happen.

Sparrow’s opinion of these particular people was not improved by such a stance.

She was reassured, at least a little bit, by Professor Budge’s promise to activate the castle defenses and increase security surrounding the event. And of course Sparrow would be there to establish security within the event, yes?

This was what she got for demanding to be treated as an adult.

Sparrow had never felt as though her demonstrable defensive skills were a burden before. But if they were now dragging her into a damn Valentine’s Day Ball she had managed to avoid for three years running – but then, Jill would be there, and Jocasta would be there. Sparrow did not need to have a huge amount of contrived coincidences to end up following the crystal balls’ prediction.

Despite these precautions, Sparrow still had a hard time falling asleep at night, more than usual. She lay awake wondering what the damage would be, and what bases she needed to cover. And she worried about the two people beside her, and the questions they would not answer. And worse – her Headmistress was still missing. The answer to where she was remained forbidden, just when Sparrow needed her.

Compared to McGonagall, Slughorn was more friendly to work with, but harder to get through to, especially when it came to describing the nature of depression. He was a friendly professor, to be sure, and hearing that Jocasta Carrow was feeling out of sorts, he proposed such potions as Draught of Peace and Felix Felicis. It took him a while to wrap his head around the idea that she could be happy in any given moment, yet still entertain suicidal thoughts on a daily basis, because her opinion of herself was extremely low, among other mental issues. So to speak, Jocasta could walk with a smile on her face, fling herself off the walkway, and smile all the way down. Slughorn had no potion for such a state of mind. He said he would ask Madame Pomfrey about the matter. Or perhaps Miranda could invent a potion made of sunshine and clouds, and it would make Jocasta feel like she was always walking on Cloud 9, because of course Miranda could make such a thing if she tried.

Perhaps Miranda was supposed to take this as a compliment, but she only looked exasperated as she departed the dungeons.

`_◊◊ YOU FEELING OKAY? ◊◊_`

"Oh sure sure, I'm perfectly chipper," growled Miranda. "I am perfectly happy to spend my time trying to explain a situation to someone, only to have them make a crack that implies they still don't get it. At this point I need a Draught of Peace myself. Or perhaps you do. I have heard tell that your week has gone about the same as what we just experienced."

`_◊◊ SO IT HAS, SO IT HAS. AND IT IS NOT OVER. ◊◊_`

For there was yet one more day before Valentine’s, and the one thing that Sparrow hated most, every year, was going to flit about the castle all of tomorrow’s day.

And tomorrow’s day came, and so did.

The cupids.

Little winged bastards with their happy faces and their stupid golden wings and their harps that were always perfectly in tune and their innocent angelic lack of anatomy. And oh the singing, the singing, the singing singing singing. Every time someone got a valentine the cupids would sing a song. Every. Goddamn. Time. It turned every delivery from a discreet incident to an event. Last year Professor Budge had specifically banished them from his classroom because they were wasting so much time, and the students were then bombarded by songs and valentines as soon as they stepped out.

It did not help that this year there was the distinct possibility that one of them might explode, and though Professor Budge thoroughly vetted each and every single Cupid as it entered the building, with no subterfuge detected, that did not account for possibility of some kind of magical accident.

And this year Sparrow could not avoid the damn things because she was no longer a distant figure to the rest of the students. She would, at some point, receive a Valentine, and she couldn’t quite get over the concept of such a thing, for each one contained a letter of anonymous admiration, what people called a Secret Admirer.

Sparrow found it difficult to understand this custom. Surely, if one had affections, they ought to be communicated, so as to get ridiculous things like silent pining out of the way, and move onto the fun stuff like kissing. One of her girlfriends had suffered through much of the schoolyear because she had refused to speak plainly, and had run instead of facing her fear. Both of her girlfriends were suffering for keeping vital information from her. This was not a good time for Sparrow to be enduring extra secrets.

Miranda was pruning a potted maple in her greenhouse as she listened to Sparrow complain about the custom. “You are correct,” said she, “there was much time wasted between you and Jill, and much time wasted between her and Jocasta, because Jill was embarrassed.”

`_◊◊ EXACTLY! ◊◊_`

“Yet if she was embarrassed,” said Miranda, “perhaps events could only have played out as they did. Perhaps they could not have gone better. You must give people time, Sparrow. I’ve heard you say a few times that if someone has something important they want to say, it has to be their decision to say it. You say you cannot force them to speak. Imagine if you’d caught up to Jill and demanded answers. Do you think she would be talking to you affectionately now? Do you think that the brave Jillian Patil would appreciate being forced to speak the truth about the one topic that she has trouble facing?”

`_◊◊ NO. ◊◊_`

“Then there’s your answer. And all these secret admirers are the same way. It’s a delicate subject, Sparrow. It means putting your heart in someone else’s hands.”

`_◊◊ SO ALL THESE PEOPLE SEND THEIR LOVE WITHOUT THE POSSIBILITY OF GETTING IT BACK? ◊◊_`

“You could put it that way.” Miranda slapped at a plant that was trying to twine around her arm. “Sounds a little altruistic, really. To let someone know they’re loved, without expecting anything in return.”

`_◊◊ I CAN HARDLY ARGUE WITH THAT. ◊◊_`Sparrow poked at a bulbous succulent, which tried to nip her fingers. `_◊◊ ALTHOUGH I WONDER IF THAT’S THE USUAL MOTIVATION. ◊◊_`

“I hope so,” said Miranda, “otherwise the Secret Admirer cards I get are all from people who want to get into my trousers, even though everyone knows nobody’s getting into them.” Her eyes lit up icy blue. “They know that kind of talk doesn’t end well.”

“Bad memories?”

“Let’s just say I understand Jocasta’s reluctance to take any potions of mental healing. It’s not a pleasant thing to think that people are trying to Fix you, and even worse to be certain of it.”

`_◊◊ WHY WOULD THEY – GOODNESS. DO THEY REALLY THINK THE MATTER IS THAT BIG A DEAL. ◊◊_`

“You sound like I don’t actually have to hint at what I’m talking about here.”

`_◊◊ YOU DON’T. AND JOCASTA DIDN’T EITHER. BUT SHE WANTED ME TO ASK YOU BECAUSE SHE DIDN’T WANT TO SPILL YOUR BUSINESS WITHOUT YOUR PERMISSION. ◊◊_`

“That’s…intriguing. I made no such request regarding the subject.”

`_◊◊ BUT IT’S A FEELING SHE PICKED UP ON. YOU’VE BEEN BEATING AROUND THE BUSH FOR THIS ENTIRE SCHOOL YEAR AND NOT HINTING VERY SUBTLY. IT’S LIKE YOU’RE TRYING TO DISCUSS THE MATTER WITHOUT JUST SAYING THE DAMN WORD. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH JUST CALLING YOURSELF ASEXUAL? ◊◊_`

“I would feel that I was establishing it as an identity, rather than a trait, thereby giving the matter more significance than it deserves. And I feel as though many around here are inclined to do so. So, I dance around the subject.”

`_◊◊ IS THAT BECAUSE OF ALL THE PEOPLE OFFERING TO FIX YOU? ◊◊_`

“Among other things. Jill told me that the entire school believes in love, and yet, alas, they seem to think it necessarily involves physical affection. They think that if I will not bed someone, it means I cannot love. Thank you for informing them of other forms. I wonder if they believed it, though? That remains to be seen.”

`_◊◊ I THINK JOCASTA DOES. EVEN IF SHE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THE SITUATION BETWEEN YOU AND HER. ◊◊_`

“Me and her?”

`_◊◊ SHE HANGS AROUND YOUR GREENHOUSE DESPITE ALL THE MISTAKES SHE MADE. ◊◊_`

“Okay…”

`_◊◊ YOU LET HER HANG AROUND IN SPITE OF THOSE MISTAKES. DID YOU HAVE TO DRAG HER INTO APOLOGIZING TO PROFESSOR LONGBOTTOM? ◊◊_`

“Not very hard, no. As a matter of fact…she came to me and asked to get it over with.”

`_◊◊ I THINK YOU ENJOY HAVING HER AROUND. I THINK BOTH OF YOU WANT TO STICK TOGETHER. WHATEVER HAPPENS, WHATEVER YOU CALL EACH OTHER. LIKE ME AND JILL. ◊◊_`

“You and Jill are pretty lovey-dovey right now.”

`_◊◊ AND IF WE AREN’T? THEN WE’RE STILL FRIENDS TO THE END. THAT’S WHAT WE’VE BEEN FOR THREE YEARS RUNNING. MAYBE IT’S THE SAME WITH YOU AND JOCASTA. ◊◊_`

“That could be,” said Miranda. She turned away from her work and stared out the window, placing her hands behind her back. “That could be. What could I call the situation? I do not know myself. I hardly know what to make of it. All I know is, I have spent many years refusing to get close to my peers. Not wishing to risk coming in from the cold. And yet – I dance with the sun. I invite her into my greenhouse. Was that all it took?”

`_◊◊ ARE YOU…REFERRING TO ME? ◊◊_`

“Perhaps.”

`_◊◊ NOW I FEEL FLATTERED. ◊◊_`

“Don’t. There is danger there if you let yourself go. You could overwhelm, smother, scorch, wilt, dessicate – if you are ignorant and uncaring. But you have chosen to take care. That means a great deal to me. And so I let you enter this place by your request, not fearing your light. I wonder if everyone in here besides me has done well by your presence as I have.”

`_◊◊ NOW I FEEL EVEN MORE FLATTERED. IS THIS YOUR WAY OF FLIRTING? ◊◊_`

Miranda spun around. “This is a way of saying that you are my friend.” She put a hand on Sparrow’s shoulder. “In the same way Jocasta is. Whatever anyone calls it. I will keep your advice in mind.”

`_◊◊ IS THERE…ANYTHING YOU WANT TO TELL JOCASTA? ◊◊_`

Miranda glanced over Sparrow’s head. "Plenty. But if I am not mistaken, you have some messages heading your way."

`_◊◊ WHAT SORT OF – OH, NO. ◊◊_`

There was a polite, gentle knock on the door.

Two Cupids hovered just beyond the glass.

Miranda moved to open the door, blithely ignoring Sparrow’s frantic gestures for her to keep it closed.

The cupids flew in, hovered over Sparrow, dropped both of their envelopes on her head, then departed without a word.

“That’s odd,” said Miranda. “They usually make a big song and dance first.”

`_◊◊ I SUPPOSE THEY KNOW ME TOO WELL. ◊◊_`Sparrow opened the envelopes and read the cards. She handed them to Miranda.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” read Miranda, “lots of love, from your secret admirer, Jill Patil. Next card. Happy Valentine’s Day, hugs and kisses, from your secret admirer, Jocasta Carrow. P.S. Go to the ball with me.” Miranda chuckled. “Sounds like they listened to your ranting.”

`_◊◊ THEY MUST HAVE BEEN LISTENING LAST YEAR. I HAVEN’T COMPLAINED ABOUT THE CARDS THIS YEAR UNTIL TODAY. THEY MUST HAVE REMEMBERED FOR A WHOLE YEAR. BOTH OF THEM. ◊◊_`

Miranda placed a hand on Sparrow’s shoulder. Sparrow suddenly realized that there was about an inch of space between her feet and the earth. `_◊◊ WHOOPS. TELL ME SOME BAD NEWS. ◊◊_`

“Bad news is you’ve got a bunch more of those incoming,” said Miranda.

There were now approximately twenty cupids hovering near the door. Each of them held at least three envelopes. They all looked rather impatient.

Sparrow’s feet met the solid floor.

“Go on,” said Miranda, lightly shoving her from behind. “Face your fear.”

`_◊◊ I DON’T WANT TO DEAL WITH A HUNDRED DIFFERENT LOVERS! I’VE GOT ENOUGH! MAYBE ONE MORE FOR GOOD MEASURE! ◊◊_`

“Well then.” Miranda pushed her further towards the door. “You shall have to sort through all of those to pick the best one. I’ll help, if you want.”

`_◊◊ PLEASE. ◊◊_`

The two girls exited the greenhouse. Twenty cupids wasted no time, nor stood on any sort of ceremony whatsoever, as they dropped their envelopes in the mud and zoomed away. Perhaps they had many more students to get to, or perhaps, more likely, Miranda and Sparrow each offended their sensibilities in a different way.

The two girls gathered the envelopes, scraped the mud off, and opened them one by one. Fifty-five were for Sparrow, and ten were for Miranda. 

`_◊◊ I WOULDN'T EXPECT YOU TO BE. YOU ONLY HAVE TO WONDER ABOUT TEN SMITTEN ADMIRERS, I HAVE TO WONDER ABOUT FIFTY-FIVE. ALTHOUGH...AT LEAST I KNOW FIFTY-FIVE PEOPLE LIKE ME. ◊◊_`

“Fifty-five at least,” said Miranda. “Sounds like good news and bad news.”

`_◊◊ WHY? ◊◊_`

“Well, this could mean people are taking you seriously. Including the people who like you and the people who don't like you. If your reputation travels far enough, that could include the Ministry of Magic. They might be looking in your general direction now.”

Sparrow’s hesitant smile disappeared.

“Just a warning, I suppose. You have done your best for many people, and loved them in your own way, and they love you in turn. How ironic that you may come to harm for it.” Miranda looked up at the sun, whose light was breaking through the clouds close to the horizon. “How bitter. I call it ironic, but that’s just a way to shield myself from bitterness. To think that being kind and generous would make you noticeable, and mark you for being preyed upon –”

`_◊◊ IT HAPPENS. IT DOES NOT MEAN I WILL STOP. ◊◊_`

“Not even for your own safety?”

`_◊◊ YOU’RE ASKING THE GIRL TRYING TO BECOME AN ANIMAGUS ABOUT SAFETY. ◊◊_`

“Okay fine. But suppose you weren’t doing that.”

`_◊◊ YOU’RE ASKING THE GIRL WITH THE UNBREAKABLE SHIELD – ◊◊_`

“Assume you don’t have that.”

`_◊◊ FINE. I HAVE NOTHING, AND KINDNESS LEAVES ME WIDE OPEN. THAT’S THE POINT, ISN’T IT? TRUST MEANS LETTING YOUR GUARD DOWN. ◊◊_`

“That’s just what I mean.” Miranda flipped through her cards one by one. “You know the Ministry will have it out for you as soon as they think you actually know what you’re doing, you know the dogs are sniffing their way toward you, so why on earth would you let your guard down? ”

`_◊◊ BECAUSE JOCASTA ASKED ME TO DO SO. ◊◊_`

“Jocasta? As in, Jocasta Carrow, the prank queen of the school?”

`_◊◊ REMEMBER SHE ABDICATED? ◊◊_`

“Oh, yes. Of course. But pledging to be a good girl doesn’t exactly mean she’s a nice girl. Why would she want you to be?”

`_◊◊ LONG STORY. SHORT VERSION IS, SHE ASKED ME TO BECOME A SOFT PLACE TO LAND. ◊◊_`

“Oh, I see. This is about romance after all.”

`_◊◊ IT IS NOT! ◊◊_`

"It is too." Miranda tapped Sparrow lightly on the nose with a card. “You are infatuated, my dear. You have been trying to impress the prettiest girl in the school.”

`_◊◊ OK FIRST OF ALL, I’M THE PRETTIEST GIRL IN SCHOOL – ◊◊_`

“Cutest.”

`_◊◊ – SECONDLY I WILL GRANT YOU THAT I AM INFATUATED. PERHAPS EVEN ADDICTED. I FIND MYSELF IN CONSTANT DESIRE OF HER PRESENCE WHEN WE ARE APART. I HAVE TOLD HER THAT I NEED HER AROUND AND IT IS TRUE. ARE YOU NOT THE SAME? ◊◊_`

"I much prefer solitude. Sometimes it is is nice to be solitary with you, and solitary with her...hm. I do miss her sometimes, now that I think of it. But to your level of sharing a bed? No. I do not envy your obsession." 

`_◊◊ AH, YOU HAVE HEARD OF THAT ARRANGEMENT. WERE YOU AWARE THAT WE ACCIDENTALLY MARRIED EACH OTHER? ◊◊_`

"I...wait, accidentally?"

`_◊◊ WE DECIDED TO TAKE A SMART REMARK FROM JILL SERIOUSLY. ◊◊_`

"You're fourteen years old!"

`_◊◊ WHICH IS WHY WE DECIDED TO WAIT A FEW YEARS TO DO IT. SO THE THREE OF US ARE BETROTHED. ◊◊_`

"You don't want to, I don't know, leave the possibility of other lovers open?"

`_◊◊ NNNNNNNNNNNNNNMAYBE. ◊◊_`

"Maybe?"

`_◊◊ IT IS NOT AS THOUGH I CAN CHOOSE WHO I LOVE, OR STOP MYSELF FROM LOVING MANY PEOPLE. BUT I WOULD NOT SEE ANYONE HURT. AND OUR GRIEFS HAVE THEIR PHYSICAL MANIFESTATIONS. IT MAY VERY WELL BE THAT JILL, JOCASTA AND I ARE THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO CAN STAND EACH OTHER, BECAUSE WE ARE THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO CAN WITHSTAND EACH OTHER. ◊◊_`

"I think I could do both."

`_◊◊ AND THAT IS WHY WE ARE FRIENDS. BUT SURELY YOU CAN SEE THAT I HAVE ALREADY IMPRESSED MISS CARROW. I DO NOT NEED TO PERFORM FOR HER. I NEED TO DO AS SHE ASKED OF ME, FOR THE SAKE OF HER HEART, AND FOR THE SAKE OF MANY. THAT IS ALL. ◊◊_`

“So you’re working from entirely noble motivations. How virtuous. You should be careful to avoid lording it over the rest of us petty plebians.” Miranda went down upon one knee before Sparrow and bowed her head. “My liege, spare us your stern judgments, we beseech thee! Have pity on us poor paupers!”

`_◊◊ STOP THAT. I DON’T EVEN HAVE ANY BOOTS FOR YOU TO LICK. ◊◊_`

“Can I polish all the silver then?”

`_◊◊ I SUPPOSE YOU COULD DO THAT WITH A WAVE OF YOUR WAND, BUT THEN – WAIT, NOW IF YOU COULD DO THAT, WHY ARE YOU STILL ALLOWING YOURSELF TO BE A SERF? IT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE. ◊◊_`

“I suppose it doesn’t, your excellence. As a matter of fact, have at thee!” Miranda sprang up and brandished her wand.

In that instant, before Sparrow even knew what she was doing, there was a glowing yellow dome surrounding her, and Miranda stumbled as she was pushed backward, falling upon her rear in the mud.

“Good heavens,” said Miranda, as she picked herself up, “you’re faster than blinking with that spell now. You didn’t even have to take your wand out of your robes.”

Sparrow realized that her hand was, indeed, not holding a wand outward as in a proper dueling stance, but just brushing the tip of her wand’s handle.

For a second she wondered if she had even been touching the thing before casting the spell. But, that was unlikely. Wandless magic was a wild thing, unpredictable and fierce. This had the shape of a proper spell. She must have had a finger on the wand.

`_◊◊ SORRY ABOUT THAT. I GUESS THERE’S YOUR OTHER ANSWER – IF ANYONE COULD SURVIVE GETTING ATTACKED BY MINISTRY GOONS, IT’S ME. MY SHIELD IS ALWAYS AT THE READY. I AM FAR LESS PHYSICALLY VULNERABLE THAN PEOPLE MIGHT THINK. ◊◊_`

“What about emotionally vulnerable? Like, give us the key or we kill your friends, sort of thing. I think your commitment to keeping everyone alive might leave you in a bad spot when it comes to hostage situations.”

`_I HAVE BEEN WARNED OF THAT. BUT._`Sparrow knelt down to the pile of cards she had dropped in the mud, and picked them up, cleaning them off as best she could with a Scourgify spell. `_CONSIDERING THE CONTENTS OF ONE CARD HERE…AH, HERE IT IS. YES, I THINK MY EFFORTS THUS FAR HAVE BEEN WORTH WHATEVER THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC WILL THROW AT ME._`Sparrow handed Miranda one of the cards.

“From Ignotius Nott. Goodness, his penmanship is terrible. ‘Dear Sparrow: Thank you very much.’ What’s this about? And why are you floating again?”

`_◊◊ NOT MY STORY TO TELL. ◊◊_`

“Well it’s getting late,” said Miranda. “It is about time to get ready for the ball. Will you come?”

Sparrow nodded. `_I MUST. IF I AM TO BE THE LAST LINE OF DEFENSE._`

“Last line? What, are you anticipating a battle?”

Sparrow explained the matter of Professor Clearwater’s prediction.

“Oh, goodness. Now I am torn. I wanted to go, and yet, if I choose not to go then…perhaps the prophecy can be averted?”

`_◊◊ THAT IS A STRANGE WAY OF THINKING ABOUT THE MATTER. ◊◊_`

“Prophecy is a curious beast, and perhaps dangerous to examine closely. Let us say that I would prefer to avoid the ball in any case, because I know Jocasta will be there and I do not wish to let her know what happened to my arm after all.”

`_◊◊ WHAT HAPPENED. ◊◊_`

“The sun is going down,” said Miranda. “As soon as it does, so does my arm.”

`_◊◊ OH! AND JOCASTA WOULD BLAME HERSELF, YOU BELIEVE. OH, WHAT AM I SAYING. OF COURSE SHE WOULD. ◊◊_`

“Even though I blame myself. So – might as well not cause her any great amount of trouble on such a wonderful night as this. You go and get ready for the ball, and I shall see you in the morning.”

Sparrow bowed. `_◊◊ I HOPE SOMEDAY YOU CAN BE CAREFREE WITH ALL YOUR FRIENDS. ◊◊_`

Miranda bowed in return. And they departed for the castle doors.

…

`_◊◊ PLEASE TELL ME WE HAVE EVERYTHING WE NEED FOR THE MOONLIGHT CEREMONY, ◊◊_` said Sparrow, as she stood with Jocasta near the refreshments table.

There was a particular edge to Sparrow’s silent voice, this evening.

For starters, she had to consider the increased security presence at the ball. Most people who attend an event with extra security may note the stern guards, perhaps to consider them amusing, or reassuring, or worrisome; for the person in the crowd who is secretly a part of the security presence, the task is a weight on their mind, whether or not they hoped to have a good time.

Professor Budge had at least done Sparrow the courtesy of explaining security measures to her. The Floo Network had been de-activated save for the fireplace of the Great Hall, where Budge stood guard. Every other teacher who could hold a wand was stationed at doorways or at the great window on one end. Hagrid stood at the largest doors, just to make sure no one could force their way in from that direction. And each door, each window, each stone upon the floor glittered like a starry sky, where Professor Flutwick had given a touch of beauty to many defensive wards.

Likewise the hearts floating overhead were set to spit fire at anyone with aggressive intent, when Flutwick gave them the command. The candles could do the same.

Sparrow was less than grateful for this last provision, as she had quite a lot of aggressive intentions for the cupids fluttering around, jumbled up with her fear that all this extra security would be necessary after all, and it could come down to her. It was little consolation to think that she and her wand had chosen such a role, long ago. She had hoped to seek danger where it lurked, on her own time, not find herself thrust into it – and yet, here she was, standing guard because she had never bothered to keep her mouth shut until it was too late. Her only real consolation was the fact that Miranda had not appeared at the ball. Perhaps that little detail would be enough to defy fate.

The other problem for Sparrow came from Jill’s bright idea.

For Sparrow should have had her wand. She should have held her wand tightly in hand, all the night long, through every dance, no matter how awkward it was for her dancing partners. But she did not. The wand was in the room, to be sure – across the entire room from the refreshments table, hovering in mid-air next to the fireplace, stuck fast to Jill’s wand.

This had not been Jill’s bright idea. Jill’s bright idea had been to see if the wands could stick together and come apart with the simple aid of the Fetching Stick, just in case a dance between the two girls would cause their wands to pin them together. And the answer was: they could certainly stick together this evening; not only would they not come apart, the Fetching Stick would not leave them either.

Sparrow was not sure if that made the stick a Bad Dog or a Good Dog.

Jill had looked like she was fit to be tied, but then she had shrugged, and said it would be an opportunity for Sparrow to practice getting far from her wand, just in case that was a necessity.

Oh, what a wonderful time to be practicing not having a wand. But Jill could not still her thoughts this evening, nor could Sparrow still hers. So they would have to accept the situation, and do their best to reach the fireplace if need be.

And thus far, with Jocasta’s guidance, Sparrow had been gradually dancing farther and farther from the fireplace, until they had at last reached the refreshments table.

Sparrow was breathing more easily. She was able to pay more attention to Jocasta’s outfit now – was it the same black gown as before? It was cut a bit lower this time.

As for her, she had been nearly as reluctant to attend in something racy as she had been to leave the fireplace. Jocasta had pouted quite a bit, for pride of her work with the purple gown. But then she had come up with her own bright idea, and filled the back in with a pattern of plum-colored lace. And both girls had called it good.

Jocasta had then offered to turn the entire thing into lace, and had a hearty laugh at Sparrow’s look of horror.

And so here they were, talking business in the midst of a Valentine’s Day Ball.

“Ceremony?” said Jocasta. “You make it sound so fancy.”

`_◊◊ DO WE HAVE THE CHRYSALIS? ◊◊_`

“Check.”

`_◊◊ TEASPOON OF DEW? ◊◊_`

“Sitting wrapped in a towel in a locked box in my trunk.”

`_◊◊ YOU’RE SURE THE TRUNK WILL NOT BE JOSTLED? ◊◊_`

“I stacked your trunk on top of it to make sure.”

`_◊◊ THEN I WILL PROVIDE THE HAIR WHEN WE ARE READY. ◊◊_`

“All well and good. I only wish McGonagall could have been here to witness it.”

`_◊◊ BEST NOT TO GET HER INVOLVED TOO MUCH. ◊◊_`

“Yeah, well. Maybe we’re in this mess because I was a coward. But let us enjoy the festivities, and forget our troubles for a while. What do you think of the decorations?”

Professor Flutwick had outdone himself this time around. Not only were there cupids flitting about the air; not only did the candles shine with a soft gold; not only did the floor glitter like stars; not only were there hearts floating around everywhere; there was a special treat: the hearts would glow if they floated over a dancing couple. They would glow especially bright if they floated over a Couple couple.

As Sparrow observed the proceedings, there were a fair few such couples that did not realize they were anything more, until the red glow appeared above their heads. For example, Alastor Warbeck was dancing with Petrifax Goodman, rather more intimately than anyone besides Sparrow would have expected, and when the red glow appeared over their heads both fellows apparently took it as the sign they had been waiting for. Likewise Celestina Figgle, who was chatting with Hubert Spengler over pumpkin juice, saw the red glow above and decided in that moment to drag Hubert to a shadowy corner.

“How utterly convenient,” said Jocasta, as she sipped a glass of pumpkin juice. “Saves people the trouble of having to work out their feelings.”

`_◊◊ HOW DO WE KNOW THEY’RE RELIABLE? ◊◊_`

“Do you doubt the work of the master of charms?”

`_◊◊ I DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW IT IS POSSIBLE TO KNOW THAT TWO PEOPLE ARE IN LOVE BEFORE THEY DO. ◊◊_`

“Oh, busybodies do that all the time,” said Jocasta. “But to do it with magic, well. The professor must be very clever. Oh, look.” She pointed upward, where a heart was casting a reddish glow onto their heads. “He did get it right.”

`_◊◊ WELL I’LL BE DAMNED, HE DID INDEED. ◊◊_`

Cormac and Violet were dancing together near the refreshments table. Cormac had come in a suit of midnight blue, full of glittering stars like the floor he danced over, as if he had drawn down a summer night sky and wrapped it about him. It made a marvelous contrast of color with his red hair – though there was one incongruity, and that was the lavender flower tucked behind his ear.

For her part, Violet had come in a suit of – not Lavender, this time, but pine and emerald green. With lavender trim. Perhaps she knew what Cormac liked, as Cormac appeared to know what she liked. Sparrow wondered how long it had taken them to put these outfits together, and when they had begun.

A heart floated over them and glowed red. Yes indeed, the charms professor knew what he was doing.

The heart over Sparrow and Jocasta had not moved away by the time Cormac and Violet came to stand by them. As they did, sparrow noticed that the color of the glow had changed. She looked up. The heart was now green, of all things.

“That’s funny,” said Violet. “I didn’t expect that. But, look. Over by the fire. There’s a blue heart.”

For indeed, just beside the fire, where no two humans were standing, but where two wands lurked in the shadows, a heart was drifting over them and glowing blue.

“Not sure what that one means,” said Violet. “Different kind of romance?”

Cormac glanced at Sparrow, then said, “Twin wands, yes? Sisters? Plus the dog?”

Sparrow nodded.

“Then perhaps the blue heart is not a matter of romance, but family.”

“Then what of the green hearts?” said Violet. “Look out at the crowd. There are more than a few.”

Indeed there were, and Sparrow observed the people under them. There was Melodius Figgle with his usual gang, near the refreshments table. There by the great fireplace stood young Miss Heaumont in a shimmering green suit, chatting merrily with Regulus Smith. There by the stained-glass window sat Professor Warbeck and, of all people, Blaise Brown. In the middle of the hall near Hagrid there stood Ignotius Nott and the same two friends as had dragged him into solving his problem – as Sparrow watched them, the heart over their heads turned from green to blue.

`_◊◊ HE DOES UNDERSTAND, ◊◊_`said Sparrow.

“Understand what?” said Jocasta.

`_◊◊ THAT THERE ARE DIFFERENT KINDS OF LOVE. WHERE IS JILL? AH HA, THAT OUTFIT LOOKS FAMILIAR. ◊◊_`

Jill had come in her gown of shimmering royal blue. Not that it was hard to spot her, in any outfit, nor the girl she danced with, for both stood about as tall as the other. Sparrow wondered why she had never noticed the girl before, for her height was unusual enough, much less her pale skin, her white-blonde hair, her elegant white gown, her...multicolored irises, if Sparrow was not mistaken. Surely if this girl had been at any of the earlier dances, Sparrow would have had the chance to learn her name, but no, she was a complete unknown.

The two seemed to be having a decent time together. But, when the pale girl noticed Sparrow’s gaze, her smile vanished, and she stepped back, bowed, and disappeared into the crowd.

Jill turned, curious to see who could have driven her dancing partner away, and upon seeing Sparrow she grinned, and said, “May I have this dance?”

`_◊◊ YOU LEAD. ◊◊_`

And so the two waltzed around the floor, with Sparrow wondering if the band ever played anything besides a waltz.

For a long time the two girls said nothing, but, as they passed beneath a heart, and the heart began to glow red, Sparrow figured she ought to broach the subject.

`_◊◊ I AM SO VERY TEMPTED TO HOLD YOU FOREVER. ◊◊_`

“Oh,” said Jill, “you sound far more romantic than normal.”

`_◊◊ NOT ROMANTIC. DESPERATE. SCARED. WHEN I THINK ABOUT THE PAIN BEHIND YOUR EYES – WHAT YOU MUST SUFFER DAILY AND NIGHTLY – I WISH THAT I COULD TAKE IT AWAY. ◊◊_`

“You do as much as you can.”

`_◊◊ AND IF IT IS NOT ENOUGH? ◊◊_`

“Then the rest is up to me.”

`_◊◊ WHAT IF THERE IS MORE I CAN DO THAN YOU THINK? WILL YOU NOT GIVE ME THE CHANCE? ◊◊_`

“Oh, my dear friend. You take so much pain upon yourself for the sake of others.”

`_◊◊ NOT HALF AS MUCH AS YOURS. I HAVE SEEN A GLIMPSE OF IT. YOU WISHED FOR ME TO SEE. AND I HAVE ENDURED THAT GLIMPSE. ◊◊_`

“And exhausted yourself for it.”

`_◊◊ I HAVE NOT TESTED THE TRUE LIMITS OF MY ENDURANCE. AND YET – IF YOU FEAR TO HARM ME, I CANNOT ASK TO SEE ANY MORE. ONLY LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU ARE READY TO TELL ME WHAT YOU HAVE ENDURED. ◊◊_`

“I am…not yet ready. But I am mustering my courage. Someday soon I will tell you.”

`_◊◊ SOMEDAY? ◊◊_`

“Soon.”

`_◊◊ WILL YOU LET ME OFFER YOU REASSURANCE? ◊◊_`

“What more could you offer than what you have given?”

Sparrow gestured to the green heart floating in the distance, under which stood Violet, and Cormac, and Jocasta, chatting merily.

`_◊◊ WHATEVER ELSE HAPPENS, YOUR FRIENDS ARE HERE FOR YOU. ◊◊_`

“Even if I am dangerous?” said Jill.

`_◊◊ EVEN IF. ◊◊_`

“Goodness gracious.”

`_◊◊ PRECISELY. ◊◊_`

“So much to think about,” said Jill. “So much to ask them. But, perhaps that is for another night. As for tonight, let us be merry. For there is a merry tune at last. I believe this is O’Sullivan’s March.”

There was, indeed, a song from the musicians that was not a waltz, nor yet a minuet, nor anything sedate, but something Irish, with Uileann pipes and drums, a merry skipping tune. Something for the sake of light hearts.

And the two girls skipped over the dance floor, with little more on their minds than laughter at last. Now and then Jill picked up Sparrow and whirled her around, as she always did when they met again each September, for in such a moment, as in this moment, little more mattered than that they had each other.

Until at last they found themselves under the green heart brightly glowing, where stood Cormac and Violet, and Jocasta.

And as Sparrow and Jill came to stand beneath the heart, it began to glow blue.

“That’s funny,” said Cormac, as he stared up at the heart. “Didn’t expect that to happen quite so fast.”

“I wonder,” said Violet, “if one can ever anticipate such a thing.”

“You didn’t anticipate Cormac,” said Jocasta.

“Indeed not.” Violet put an arm over Cormac’s shoulders. “Call me a lucky duck.”

Cormac put an arm over her shoulders in turn. “Make that two lucky ducks.”

Jill picked up both of them in a fierce hug. “Three. I’ve been waiting for one of you to make a move for months.”

“We had to be able to communicate properly first,” said Violet, somewhat strained for lack of air.

“I shouldn’t call it that much of a surprise,” said Jocasta. “Cormac did say that his home is among his friends.”

“Ah,” said Cormac, as Jill put him down. “Fair enough. And pity we’re missing one, eh?”

“I’ve been trying to call her here for a while.” Jocasta pouted.

`_◊◊ OH, DEAR. I TOLD HER TO STAY AWAY. ◊◊_`

“You did what!” said Jocasta.

`_◊◊ FOR THE SAKE OF AVERTING PROPHECY! BECAUSE MAYBE WE’LL ONLY HAVE EXPLOSIONS IF ALL OF US ARE HERE! ◊◊_`

“Not that I would be one to lend credence to such divination,” said Jill. “Especially if any attempts to avert such a thing make one complacent, hmmmm?”

“Just like my namesake,” said Jocasta. “Sparrow, I daresay you will have to be on your guard at this event no matter what you do.”

`_◊◊ OH LOOK, THE SONG HAS CHANGED. A NICE STEP-DANCING TUNE. I THINK I SHALL DANCE TOWARDS THE WANDS. ◊◊_`

“Without me?” said Jill.

`_◊◊ OH, I DIDN’T SAY THAT. COME ON NOW. ◊◊_`

Sparrow took Jill by the hand and led her away. They danced towards the fireplace, bit by bit, not feeling so pressed for time as to move directly.

But when the two ran into Miranda, standing there by the fireplace in her suit of many colors, one arm in her suit jacket and one arm in a sling, Sparrow wondered if she was pressed for time after all.

“You have come,” said Jill. “Perhaps to bring our doom.”

“Oh dear,” said Miranda. “I thought I was here to speak with Jocasta. Sparrow, would you be so kind as to dance for me?”

`_◊◊ I MUST FOLLOW YOUR CUSTOM ONCE MORE? ◊◊_`

“I do not believe I shall have much time tonight, nor opportunity. Hard to dance with just the one arm, you know.”

`_◊◊ AH HA. THEN I OUGHT TO STEP IN FOR YOU. THOUGH I CANNOT MATCH YOUR HEIGHT, NOR CAN I MATCH YOUR CHARM. ◊◊_`

“Indeed not,” said Miranda. “You have your own charm, that you have been building these many years.”

`_◊◊ I CAN’T BE SURE THAT ANYONE WOULD WISH TO DANCE WITH ME, AFTER ALL THE TROUBLE I’VE CAUSED. ◊◊_`

“Sparrow.” Miranda put her working hand on the girl’s shoulder. “From what I’ve heard, everyone wants you to be there for them.” She nodded to the dancing floor.

Sparrow turned, and saw there many people dancing with spirit and abandon, for the tune had not lost its speed nor its mirth. There were not a few people who spotted her and looked inviting, even to gesture her to join them, though they be single or coupled.

“It seems they love you,” said Jill.

`_◊◊ I KNOW. I JUST CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHY, AFTER ALL I’VE DONE. I HAVE NOT MADE RESTITUTION FOR MY MISTAKES YET. ◊◊_`

“Perhaps not,” said Miranda. “And yet, you are their shield. That is what they know, and what they care about most. It may be that they have come to rely on you already.”

`_◊◊ LET THEM NOT RELY ON ME ALONE. ◊◊_`

And Sparrow stepped away from Miranda, and from her Jill, and from her wand, and towards everyone.

And in a moment Sparrow found herself dancing with the same abandon as everyone else. In such a dance, with such a tune, there were, in this one moment, no griefs, not cares nor woes.

And Sparrow took many by the hand and danced with them, for one moment or the next, and moved on, trying to dance with everyone she could, hoping she would not miss anyone. She gave everyone what time she could. Enough time to look them in the eye, and after saying their full name clearly, tell them,

`_◊◊ YOU ARE LOVED. ◊◊_`

And each time she did so, the heart above their head glowed, not red, nor even green, but yellow. Many laughed to see such a thing, but what it was, none could guess, perhaps not even Sparrow in this moment – not when there were so many still to meet. It was a question for the future, and now was only now.

And so Sparrow wandered among all her fellow students, leaving a trail of yellow hearts in her wake, as she named each person one by one.

She made only one misstep, when she was informed that the Heaumont child was a lad named Honorius, never mind the old name, thank you very much. Sparrow made her apologies to Honorius about the mistake, and he, in turn, forgave Sparrow, for, as he said, it was his prerogative to divulge such things, and he had decided that beyond his small circle of friends, Sparrow would be the one he told first. Sparrow thanked him for the honor and continued on to find whatever student she had not yet found.

But there was one she had not yet met – the one girl whose face she did not know. A girl she had not found, though it should have been easy to see her from anywhere.

Nor, indeed, had she seen Wilhelmina Burke tonight. They had met but twice before, once at each dance; Sparrow thought that she might have overlooked Miss Burke, or simply not reached her. And yet, there was the question of which Wilhelmina Burke she might find, for the one she had met in October was not the one she had met in December. They had looked quite similar, but only similar. Almost as if they were identical twins, or something. And oh, those curious particolored irises.

The tune ended, and became something slow, and sad. Sparrow slowed down at last, and wobbled, for while she could not be harmed, she could be exhausted. She might have even keeled over. But then there was Belladonna Yamakeg putting an arm behind her, and Percival Bulstrode taking her by the hand, and leading her towards –

a tall, pale, blonde girl, in an elegant white gown, with irises not merely multicolored, but every color of the rainbow.

The girl took her by the hand and by the waist, and led her in the slow dance. As she did so, Sparrow thought that her eyes were playing tricks on her, for the girl was shrinking, and her hair was shortening, and – yes, that was exactly what was happening.

Suddenly the girl before Sparrow looked exactly like her. Save for the irises, which had not changed.

She appeared to understand the look of utter confusion on Sparrow’s face, for she laughed, and in the next moment she was just a bit taller, and her black hair was curly instead of kinky, and her skin was a few shades lighter. And still her irises did not change.

“Before you ask,” said Wilhelmina, “I was the one who impersonated you back in December.”

`_◊◊ I THOUGHT THAT WAS JOCASTA’S DOING! ◊◊_`

“Technically it was. She got it started at least. Took the potion, sat in the classroom, raised her hand, Binns didn’t call on her because apparently you and Violet Brown dominate the conversation in that class so that was the day he decided to give anyone else a chance.”

`_◊◊ GOOD HEAVENS. SAVED BY MY OWN ACADEMIC DILLIGENCE. ◊◊_`

“So she ran out of potion and asked me to fill in for her the next day. By which point Binns had given up and called on you after all. I had thought he might have noticed that your eyes were different, but who knows if he loooks closely at any of his students. Oh, well. I give everyone a sporting chance to spot me but not everyone is observant.”

`_◊◊ WERE YOU, UM – IMPERSONATING ANYONE ELSE, THIS PAST MONTH? ◊◊_`

“After I realized what I’d done to you? Still tempting as ever. But I mostly avoided it. I am…sorry for what I did. And for failing to return your messages. I was too embarrassed. I feared the judgment of Sparrow Jones would fall upon me.”

`_◊◊ BUT YOU SPEAK TO ME NOW? AFTER HIDING FOR THE ENTIRE EVENING? ◊◊_`

“Let us say, I needed a few minutes. And I have been hearing that you are less judgmental than before.”

`_◊◊ I HAVE MY APOLOGIES TO MAKE AS WELL. ◊◊_`

“For what, exactly?”

`_◊◊ FOR WHAT I DID TO PERCIVAL. FOR WHAT I DID TO YOU. I MIGHT HAVE BROKEN SOMETHING THAT COULD NEVER BE REPAIRED. IF YOU WISH TO FORGIVE ME – ◊◊_`

“Sparrow, for heaven’s sake, have you never heard of Kayfabe?”

`_◊◊ WHAT. ◊◊_`

Suddenly Wilhelmina looked a lot like Maledictus Bulstrode with rainbow irises.

“Who do you think convinced Cormac to put on that show?”

`_◊◊ WHAT. ◊◊_`

“I figured that if portraits were going to blab about everything they saw in front of them, we ought to show them something that looked real from a distance. Something that looked like the Slytherins were mostly against your ideas after all, so that maybe everyone else would think you weren’t trying to be a Dark Wizard. That’s why Percival came on way too strong. He didn’t want you to accept his House as an ally.”

`_◊◊ SO I WASN'T THE ONLY MARK IN THAT HALLWAY? ◊◊_`

“I thought you were a Smart Mark! Your improv was excellent, by the way.”

`_◊◊ EXCELLENT IMPROV THAT HAD ME KICKING MYSELF FOR AN ENTIRE MONTH! ◊◊_`

“Perhaps I should have explained this sooner. Sorry about keeping mum for so long.”

`_◊◊ AND I’M SORRY I BOUGHT INTO THE SLYTHERIN-IS-INHERENTLY-EVIL CLAPTRAP SO READILY. I WAS VERY WORRIED THAT I HAD DRIVEN AWAY A DECENT ALLY. ◊◊_`

“Yes, well. That particular claptrap may have shielded you from the Ministry’s eyes just a bit longer. That was the idea.”

`_◊◊ I SEE. TWO ALLIES, THEN. ◊◊_`

“I would say one ally for certain. Percival desperately wants to help you. Me…I just want to keep you alive.”

`_◊◊ WHY? ◊◊_`

“So I can see how the dice fall. I think you would make my world…more amusing, at least. I can’t say if I like your mad scheme. Can’t say if I won’t decide to work against you, someday, if I think it’s a terrible idea after all. Who knows? We all grow older and change our ways, forget our youthful dreams…I would have you reach the age where you could. And there are some who would not.”

`_◊◊ SUCH AS PERCIVAL TRIED TO GET THROUGH MY HEAD. IT IS A SAD THING, TO THINK THAT MANY, OR ANY, WOULD STOOP TO DIRTY DEEDS. ◊◊_`

“Some people are quite jealous of the petty power they hold. I wonder – you have run around this entire hall tonight and told everyone they are loved. If you knew the real, awful things people do – would you still bother?”

`_◊◊ LET US SAY A HEART GROWS IN THE SHARING. ◊◊_`

“So when you stood out there in front of half the school and said you loved everyone, you weren’t kidding.”

`_◊◊ I NEVER JOKE ABOUT SUCH A THING, WILHELMINA. ◊◊_`

“So why did you sound more distant tonight? Why not say you love them, directly?”

`_◊◊ BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW IF THEY WOULD UNDERSTAND. BECAUSE I DIDN’T WANT EVERYTHING TO BE ABOUT ME. BECAUSE I DON’T WANT THEM TO THINK I’M ALL THEY’VE GOT. I JUST WANT THEM TO KNOW THEY’RE NOT ALONE. ◊◊_`

“And yet,” said Wilhelmina, “you might be leaving them hanging. Tell me, Miss Jones. Do you love me?”

`_◊◊ I DO, WILHELMINA. ◊◊_`

“But you hardly know me.”

`_◊◊ I LOVE THE WORLD AS WELL, THOUGH I BARELY KNOW IT. ◊◊_`

“And would you love it, if you knew it?”

`_◊◊ YES. ◊◊_`

“But what if you could prove to yourself that the world was awful?”

`_◊◊ I WOULD STILL LOVE IT. BUT IN A SELFISH WAY, IN A POSESSIVE WAY, PERHAPS. IT IS, AFTER ALL, ALL WE HAVE, FOR NOW. ◊◊_`

“And…is there anyone you hate? Please don’t tell me that you love literally everyone in the world. There are people who deserve none.”

`_◊◊ I CAN SAY THAT THERE ARE CERTAIN PEOPLE IN THE WORLD I HAVE STRENUOUS DISAGREEMENTS WITH, AND SOME PEOPLE WHO, IF I KNEW JUST WHAT THEY HAD DONE, I WOULD HATE. I WILL RESERVE JUDGMENT AND AWAIT ALL THE EVIDENCE. ◊◊_`

“Oh thank God! I was worried you were some kind of perfect little angel.”

`_◊◊ OH, HOW I WOULD LOVE TO BE. BUT NO. I AM NOT FREE FROM CYNICISM, NOR FROM FURY, NOR OBSESSION, NOR JEALOUSY. I WONDER IF I LOVE THE PEOPLE OF THIS SCHOOL ONLY BECAUSE THEY LET ME LIVE AND BE FREE. I WONDER IF I AM BEING SELFISH, AFTER ALL. IF I AM BEING POSESSIVE NOW. BUT. I TRY TO FREE MYSELF FROM SUCH PETTINESS. AND SOMEDAY MAYBE I CAN FREE THE REST OF THE WORLD. ◊◊_`

“You do seem to have a habit of setting your goals high.”

`_◊◊ I HAVE TO SET THEM HIGH TO GET ANYWHERE. HERE IS PERCIVAL ONCE MORE. WILL YOU DANCE WITH HIM? ◊◊_`

“Perhaps,” said Wilhelmina. She released Sparrow. “My dear madgirl. I cannot say I love you, not as sincerely as you love me. But…thank you for being willing to speak with me. Perhaps, if I knew your plans better, I could be a more steadfast ally. At the very least I will not stand in your way yet. You could have been a Slytherin, girl. You’ve got ambitions beyond even my dreams.”

`_◊◊ I AM WHAT I CHOOSE TO BE, MY DEAR WILHELMINA. ◊◊_`

…

The most impressive aspect of the evening, in Sparrow’s opinion, was the fact that Miranda was smiling as she spoke to Jocasta, and that Jocasta showed no sign of embarrassment, despite Miranda’s obvious impairment. Perhaps the fact that the green heart above them glowed brightly had something to do with it.

The least impressive aspect of the evening, in Sparrow’s opinion, were the refreshments. You would think a large fancy castle that was able to serve hundreds of children meat once per week could come up with something more interesting than pumpkin juice and those hard crumbly cookies that only look nice.

On the other hand, maybe the Kitchen Staff couldn’t be asked to do much more than they normally did.

Besides which, the real purpose of a Refreshments Table, in Sparrow’s opinion, was to provide a place for people to stand when they did not wish to be involved in dancing but did wish to look sociable. And Sparrow wanted pumpkin juice anyway.

As did a Fifth-year Gryfindor named Kingsley Cadogan. He got the last of the bowl before she did.

“Whoops,” he said, “I guess I beat you to the punch.”

`_◊◊ I APPRECIATE THE PUN. ◊◊_`

Mister Cadogan looked around in confusion, until Sparrow pointed to herself.

“That was you?” said Cadogan. “I wondered what was going on, back there on the dance floor. I thought for a second that the voice of God sounded like Sparrow Jones. How are you doing that?”

`_◊◊ LET US SAY THAT I AM MAKING MYSELF VULNERABLE. THAT IS AS MUCH AS I KNOW. ◊◊_`

“Ah ha. So the voice came from a different angel than I was thinking of. Say, erm – now that I do have your ear…would you mind clarifying?”

`_◊◊ CLARIFYING HOW? ◊◊_`

“Like, who exactly loves me? ‘Cause it would sure help if I knew.”

`_◊◊ ME. AMONG OTHERS. ◊◊_`

“But we hardly know each other. Why me?”

`_◊◊ BECAUSE YOU ARE A HUMAN BEING. BECAUSE YOU ARE A FELLOW STUDENT. I NEED NO MORE REASONS THAN THAT. ◊◊_`

Cadogan looked slightly disappointed. “Oh, I thought you meant…look, you’re really cute. Are you still dating Lady Braveheart?”

Sparrow beckoned to Jill, who in turn drew Jocasta away from Miranda. Jill took Sparrow by the hand, and Jocasta elected to rest her arm on Sparrow’s shoulder. There had been a heart glowing yellow over the refreshments table; it drifted over the three girls and glowed red.

“Both of them?” said Cadogan. “The Queen of Pranks and her knight?”

“Works for us,” said Jocasta.

“You can’t argue with the heart,” said Jill.

“No,” said Cadogan. “I certainly cannot. Well, that’s…something to think about.”

`_◊◊ FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH, ◊◊_` said Sparrow, `_◊◊ I SAW HONORIUS HEAUMONT MAKING EYES AT YOU WHEN YOU WEREN’T LOOKING. ASK AFTER HIM. ◊◊_`

Cadogan’s face brightened. “I wondered when he was going to start telling people about his name. Excuse me.” He departed from the refreshments table and moved into the crowd, having left his glass untouched on the table.

“Ah ha,” said Jocasta as she picked up the glass. “Free drinks.”

Suddenly a mass of owls swooped in through a window high overhead. One, two, three…perhaps a hundred. And half of them carried a red envelope, which they were dropping, one by one by one. Sparrow realized with some regret that she had still neglected to send her own letter home.

“How charming,” said Jill. “Some extra secret admirer cards, delivered late.”

Two sounds happened in quick succession.

First, there was a crash of splintering glass upon the stone floor. Sparrow whirled around. Jocasta was staring up at the owls, holding her hand just where it had been before her glass fell from it.

Second, there was the sound of a heavy thud. Sparrow looked up at the window. There was an arm thrown over the sill, as if someone outside was hanging for dear life.

“What is it?”

“Those are not valentines,” said Jocasta.

And indeed they were not. As Sparrow could see quite plainly, when an envelope fell in front of her.

For what Wizard, child or elder, would be foolish enough to send a valentine in a red envelope with a tell-tale gold border?

And yet…no official Ministry Stamp. So was someone foolish enough to put all their valentines in Howler Envelopes, after all? And hope it would trick someone into opening the things quickly?

But the one before her was beginning to curl and smoke at the edges.

Sparrow looked up to see the rest of the Howlers falling, being knocked this way and that by streams of flame that shot out of the hearts overhead – for what was falling towards the hearts was a hundred pieces of someone’s ill intent, and each of those pieces had quite a bit of ill intent within them.

But they were also tough, because they had to withstand the reactions of a panicked recipient. Which meant that the flames did nothing but toss them around and scatter them even more.

And all Sparrow could think was that someone had taken the very low road, after all.

“Accio Howler!”

Now who in their right mind would – That was Jocasta’s voice, wasn’t it?

A red envelope zoomed by her face. Then another. And another. For Jocasta was not hesitating, but summoning Howlers to her, one by one, dropping them into a pile at her feet.

But it was one by one, and Sparrow was counting down. One Howler per second, forty seconds left. Most of them had been dropped in among the crowd. The students were ending away from them in fear and confusion. Maybe if she and Jill summoned them as well they could clear every envelope but that would still leave a gigantic pile that might go boom and oh right neither girl had her wand anywhere near them.

If there was any consolation at all, in this moment, it was that a few of the Howlers were flying upward to the window, as if someone was summoning them in that direction.

The streams of fire from the hearts were directed mostly downward now, turning anxiety into panic, causing students to run around and run into each other, a fair few of them casting shield charms against the flames as best they could, so that there were far fewer burns than everyone might have suffered – yet there were enough casualties already that the panic of the crowd was not abating very quickly, or at all.

The teachers at the doorway to the corridor were moving as fast as they could to herd students out of the room, in case the crowd got stuck in the exit. Fortunately and unfortunately for them, most of the students had not thought to go in that direction yet, because the Howlers were scattered well enough that moving in any direction was a risky prospect, even without everyone running into each other.

And Jocasta’s efforts had not yet caught them all, or even half. The ones next to her were already smoking.

And Jill had a faraway look in her eyes.

“Why aren’t you helping?” said Jocasta.

Jill shook her head, as if coming out of a daze. “Because my wand is across the room,” said Jill, “because I’m a dumbass. Why are you standing next to a pile of explosives?”

“Maybe I think it’s invigorating!” `_• IT’S A NICE AND CONVENIENT HEROIC DEATH. •_`

The pile of howlers had indeed began to smoke. Yet Jocasta would not leave it, for she was attempting to vanish the pile, to no avail.

`_◊◊ LEAVE IT, ◊◊_`said Sparrow. `_◊◊ NO CONVENIENT ESCAPE FROM LIFE’S TROUBLE BY HEROIC DEATH, MY DEAR! ◊◊_`

“What else would you have me do?” said Jocasta. “We’re running out of time here!”

Indeed the seconds were ticking down. What to do? Run, and crash into people, and trip them up? Blow all the cards away somehow? But oh, HER wand was on the other side of the entire room –

Thirty seconds left.

A voice rang out amidst the din.

“ACCIO HOWLERS!”

And every red envelope in the room shot towards one point, just above a wand held aloft – a wand of golden wood that Sparrow had never seen before, held by a hand that Sparrow had seen many times.

Unfortunately for Cormac, and most unfortunately for his wand, the wand could not handle the job it had been assigned, and went off bang in the boy’s hand, peppering his face with bits of wood and scattering the Howlers all about the room.

Well now that set the crowd into a worse panic, and now some of them were beginning to jam the doorway.

Sparrow started towards the fireplace and discovered that, despite the surge of the crowd in one direction there were still far too many students in her way. A tiny slip of a girl could have slipped between calmly chatting people easily enough, but when they were milling about in terrified confusion it would have been like tossing a muffin into a paper mill.

Fifteen seconds. Maybe she and Jill could call their wands to their hands?

In an instant, three thoughts flashed into Sparrow’s mind that were not from her own head.

One was of a dog fetching the morning newspaper.

One was of bowling pins clattering as they were scattered by a well-placed ball.

And the third was too many at once – a field of domed camping tents, a set of bubble wrap, the bubbles she had blown in her milk the other day, a view over a rainy street where all strollers were hidden by umbrellas, a shell game – what did those have in common?

Jill grabbed Jocasta and pushed her to Sparrow’s side. Then she dashed to Miranda and grabbed her by her functioning arm and dragged her toward the scrum in front of the doorway, barging through any students in the way.

Ten seconds.

What was the dog supposed to do?

Jocasta nudged Sparrow.

`_◊◊ WHAT? ◊◊_`

“Fetch?”

Oh, of course.

`_◊◊ FETCH! ◊◊_`

And three wands shot over the heads of the crowd, straight towards Sparrow’s hand.

`_◊◊ GOOD DOG. ◊◊_`

Five seconds. Jill and Miranda had managed to get themselves in front of the crowd and now they were helping the teachers shuffle students through the door.

Sparrow put one hand on the wands. She met Jocasta’s eyes and nodded to her hand.

“Neither of those belong to me!”

`_◊◊ TWO SECONDS. LIBRARY TRICK, TRY IT. ◊◊_`

Jocasta put her hand on the wand, her other arm around Sparrow, and kissed her hard on the mouth.

Together they cast the spell.

`_ •◊•◊•◊ PROTEGO! ◊•◊•◊• _`

A translucent yellow dome appeared over each howler, just before it exploded.

…

It was not quite as impressive a sight as fifty-odd letter bombs might have been. Then again, there were five that Sparrow and Jocasta missed, and three cases where the shield failed. These few open explosions did enough damage, blasting the card table and the refreshment table to splinters, slashing the arms of a few children who had not managed to back away, snuffing the candles, knocking quite a few students off their feet, and deafening everyone.

Still, the sight of all those shields appearing, filling with fire, and holding, was impressive enough. Mingled with the shouts of fear were cries of admiration and relief.

And in the dimness that was left, the sight of a brilliant silvery light in the middle of the room was enough to make the students pause in their flight from the hall.

Sparrow could not see anyone beyond the light, and perhaps they could not see her. But she could, at least, speak to them.

`_◊◊ I LOVE YOU ALL. ◊◊_`

The hall went quiet.

`_◊◊ AND I AM SORRY. I FEAR I HAVE LED YOU ALL INTO GREAT DANGER. FAR MORE QUICKLY THAN I HAD HOPED. BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY THIS WAS AN ATTACK, NOT ONLY ON OUR BODIES BUT ON OUR SOULS, FOR NOW WE FEAR. NOW WE LOOK UP IN TERROR AT EACH LETTER THAT COMES, DAY BY DAY. THAT WHICH WE THOUGHT WAS SAFE, IS SAFE NO LONGER. ◊◊_`

`_◊◊ I AM SORRY. I NEVER ASKED PROPERLY IF YOU WANTED TO FOLLOW ME DOWN THE PATH I AM TAKING. I WOULD NOT BLAME YOU FOR ASKING ME TO LEAVE THIS PLACE, IF YOU THINK MY PRESENCE IS PUTTING YOU IN DANGER. ◊◊_`

There was some muttering from the crowd to that effect.

“Now hang on a second,” said the voice of Kingsley Cadogan. “We can hardly lose the best shield witch I’ve ever seen, not if more Howlers are going to come at us. We need you, Sparrow. Everyone says you would have gone into Gryfindor if you hadn’t picked Hufflepuff. Live up to that now, why don’t you?”

`_◊◊ NO RUNNING, HUH? IS THAT AN ORDER? ◊◊_`

“More like a plea!”

“Yeah,” said Ignotius, from somewhere beyond the light. “This is definitely a please-don’t-leave-us situation.”

`_◊◊ IF YOU BELIEVE YOU WOULD BE SAFER WITH ME...WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF YOU? ◊◊_`

“You said you loved us all,” said Wilhelmina, “all together and one by one. And sometimes love means letting people go. But I’m with the Cadogan boy on this. I think in this case that love means staying.”

`_◊◊ WOULD YOU WANT TO FOLLOW A FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD MADGIRL INTO GIVING MAGIC TO MUGGLES? WOULD YOU WANT TO RISK THAT? THE IRE OF YOUR ELDERS, THE FEAR OF SMALL-MINDED PEOPLE? ◊◊_`

There were mutterings from the crowd of the rumors are true and she doesn’t sound crazy and how would we go about it.

“If you can figure out how to even do that,” said Cadogan, “I’d love to see it.”

“I wouldn’t,” said Melodius Figgle. “Magic’s ours, isn’t it?”

`_◊◊ DOES IT HAVE TO BE? ◊◊_`

“I don’t know,” said a 7th-year Ravenclaw named Catarina Fletcher. “I mean, I wouldn’t call this place cozy and little, but compared to the muggle world it is. There’s a lot that happens there that doesn’t happen here because there are so few of us to begin with. Like wars and…terrorist attacks and…hm. Scratch that.”

`_◊◊ WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF YOU? ◊◊_`

The consensus from the student body, as far as she could hear, was that the students found the notion amusing, but didn’t think it was at all possible. Magic was hereditary, and that was that. There were a fair few, like a 5th-year Slytherin named Cantankerus Ranganathan, who were eager to help in what way they could, but for the most part people still thought that Sparrow had more ideals than ability.

`_SOMEDAY,_`said Sparrow, `_WE WILL DO WHAT CANNOT BE DONE. FOR WE ARE WIZARDS, AND WE DO THE IMPOSSIBLE DAILY._`

`_◊◊ AND WHATEVER HAPPENS – WHETHER I AM WITH YOU, OR GONE FOREVER – WHETHER YOU ARE WITH ME, OR AGAINST ME – YOU MUST BE HERE FOR EACH OTHER. ◊◊_`

`_◊◊ NEVER FORGET THAT. ◊◊_`

…

It came close to midnight in the Dragon Tower.

Sparrow had hoped to stand alone, in an appropriately dramatic fashion for the occasion, but with Jill and Jocasta flanking her rather closely, she did not have the chance. Not that it was that much of a shame.

Likewise Cormac and Violet would not let go of each other’s hands, nor indeed would Miranda let go of Jocasta’s other hand, nor would she let go of Cormac’s other hand, such that, where six children might have stood in equal positions around the fire, they were instead gathered to one side of it.

Which was well enough. The three adults in the room needed to have room at the fire anyway, while leaving room for Abrax, which Professor Clearwater might have needed a lot of if Blaise had not been standing between them. She was in her full flying gear, helmet and kneepads and all, but dragonfire was not the sort of thing that could handle.

Professor Longbottom was the only person who did not jump in a nervous reflex when Argus Filch floated through the wall.

“The castle ghosts are distracted,” said Filch. “Don’t thank me, they were already distracted by tonight’s fiasco. Were you going to invite me to this?”

`_◊◊ I CERTAINLY WOULDN’T WANT YOU TO GET INTO MORE TROUBLE. I DON’T THINK THERE’S ANYTHING THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC CAN DO TO GHOSTS, BUT...BETTER NOT TO CHANCE IT. ◊◊_`

“Fair point,” said Filch.

“You do realize,” said Violet, “that once you spit that leaf into the vial, we’re getting closer to being in over our heads.”

`_◊◊ WE ARE IN OVER OUR HEADS ALREADY, ◊◊_`said Sparrow. `_◊◊ MIGHT AS WELL SWIM NOW. BLAISE, DO YOU THINK IT’S TIME? ◊◊_`

“No sense waiting any longer.”

At that moment, in a space where nobody was standing, there was a whirl of fire.

If the children had not been holding onto each other, they may very well have fallen over backwards. Professor Clearwater had stumbled backward, as had Professor Longbottom. Blaise had not moved an inch.

Abrax was awake, now, and snarling.

Their snarls ended, and they bowed their head sheepishly, when the fire died down to reveal Minerva McGonagall. She looked far more tired than she had been when she had left.

“This doesn’t look like the Great Hall,” she said. “What happened?”

“A narrowly averted fiasco,” said Professor Clearwater.

The children explained the night’s incident.

“I see,” said McGonagall. “Budge must have missed this place when he shut off the Floo Network. And now, I suppose, you are all doing what you said you would?”

Everyone nodded.

“And past this point, you cannot go back.” McGonagall shook her head sadly. “Well. I wonder if I could possibly convince you to register at the end of it all. But call that a habit born of many decades of being sensible.”

`_◊◊ VERSUS OUR FEW YEARS OF BEING IMPATIENT. ◊◊_`

“And how often impatience wins out! Well, my fine feathered friends, you might as well get going. As for me, I have more matters to attend than I expected. We will discuss these matters in the morning. Have a good night, children. Cordelia. Neville. Argus. Abrax.”

She strode out the door and slammed it.

“Alright,” said Jocasta. “Blaise, I think it is time now.”

Blaise tickled Abrax under the chin, and the dragon rose, and roared. Six children shivered at the sound echoing among the stone. Overhead the myriad dragons began to crawl out of the windows and take to the air.

Six children and three adults strode out into the cold night. One adult floated.

Again there was no moon, or, on a normal night, there would not be.

Blaise whistled sharply.

Above came the roar of a hundred dragons breathing fire into the sky.

And yet -- the fire did not chase away the clouds, but merely obscured them. When it was done, the clouds remained.

"As I feared," said Blaise. "The clouds are too high tonight."

"Ah ha," said Jill. "Second resort, then. Sparrow, Jocasta, if you will?" She drew her wand, and held it out in front of her. "Time to shoot the breeze."

Sparrow drew her wand, and let it fly over to Jill's, where it stuck fast. Then she, Jocasta, and Jill, placed a hand on the wand.

Sparrow felt a hand on her shoulder. 

"Gonna take more power this time," said Cormac. 

"Seconded," said Violet, and she placed a hand on Jocasta's shoulder.

"Thirded," said Miranda, as she placed a hand on Jill's shoulder.

Together they cast the spell.

`_∞ V ENTUS! ∞_`

When the roar of the wind finally faded, the moon was shining down upon the gathered Wizards, from a clear sky.

The creation of the Transfiguration Vial was a peaceful moment, in comparison to the rest of the evening. Perhaps it was even mundane. For all that Sparrow called it a ceremony, there was no chanting, no singing, nothing to make it too dramatic. The part where Sparrow had to spit the leaf into the vial was even a bit vulgar.

There was, however, one homily.

“You know,” said Violet, “I’ve heard people say that there are weeks when decades happen. But I think there are months when centuries happen as well. Like August 1914 or October 2016. I think this month was the same. We found a rock at the top of a mountain and now we’re kicking it down. No stopping it now.”

“I think,” said Professor Clearwater, “when the Ministry gets wind of this you will need to prepare for an avalanche.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want me to stop writing Hagrid's dialogue in dialect I will stop.


End file.
